THE  HOME 
STEADER 


OSCAR 
MICHEAUX 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


- 


V  i 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


From  a  painting  by  W.  M.  Farrow. 

"SOMETHING  HAPPENED  AND  I  WAS  STRANGELY  GLAD 
AND  CAME  HERE  BECAUSE  I— I— JUST  HAD  TO  SEE  YOU, 
JEAN." 


THE   HOMESTEADER 

A  NOVEL 


BY 

OSCAR  MICHEAUX 

Author  of  "The  Forged  Note" 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  W.  M.  FARROW 


SIOUX  CITY,  IOWA 

WESTERN  BOOK  SUPPLY  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY  OSCAR  MICHEAUX 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


BELOVED  MOTHER 

THIS 

TO 

YOU 


PUBLISHERS  TO  THE  READER 


How  much  of  the  story  of  Jean  Baptiste  is  a  work  of  the 
author's  own  imagination  and  how  much  comes  from  an  authen- 
tic source  we  do  not  consider  it  necessary  to  say.  But  that  he 
has  in  this  instance  drawn  more  largely  and  directly  from  fact 
than  is  the  practice  of  the  novelist  is  admitted,  and  we  have  his 
consent  therefore,  to  make  certain  statements  concerning  him- 
self that  relate  to  the  story,  and  why  he  has  written  it. 

To  begin  with,  that  which  any  writer  has  been  more  closely 
associated  with,  are  the  things  he  can  best  portray.  Where- 
fore, in  "  THE  HOMESTEADER,"  Oscar  Micheaux  has  writ- 
ten largely  along  the  lines  he  has  lived,  and,  naturally  of  what 
he  best  knows.  His  experience  has  been  somewhat  unusual; 
his  association  largely  out  of  the  ordinary.  Born  thirty-three 
years  ago  in  Southern  Illinois,  he  left  those  parts  at  an  early 
age  to  come  into  his  larger  education  in  the  years  that  followed 
through  extensive  traveling  and  a  varied  association.  Pur- 
chasing a  relinquishment  on  a  homestead  in  South  Dakota  at 
the  age  of  twenty;  five  years  later  he  had  succeeded  and  owned 
considerable  lands  in  the  country  wherein  he  had  settled. 
Always  literarily  inclined  he  wrote  articles  for  newspapers  and 
magazines  as  a  beginner,  and  then  during  his  twenty-sixth  and 
twenty-seventh  years  occurred  the  convicting  incident  that 
changed  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  and  gave  him  more  than 
anything  else,  the  subsequent  material  for  the  building  of  this 
story. 

Shortly  after  this  his  first  book  appeared,  and  he  at  last 
had  found  his  calling.  He  wrote  his  second  book  two  years 
later.  But  the  episode  that  had  changed  his  life  from  ranching 
to  writing  was  ever  in  his  mind  and  always  so  forcibly  until  he 
was  never  a  contented  man  until  he  had  written  it  —  and  "  The 
Homesteader  "  is  the  story. 


CONTENTS 


EPOCH  THE  FIRST 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    AGNES 13 

II    THE  HOMESTEADER 21 

III  AT  THE  SOD  HOUSE 28 

IV  SHE  COULD  NEVER  BE  ANYTHING  TO  HIM 37 

V    WHEN  THE  INDIANS  SHOT  THE  TOWN  UP 43 

VI    THE  INFIDEL,  A  JEW  AND  A  GERMAN 49 

VII    THE  DAY  BEFORE 56 

VIII    AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN 61 

IX    "CHRISTINE!    CHRISTINE!" 75 

X  "You  HAVE  NEVER  BEEN  THIS  WAY  BEFORE"    ...     80 

XI  WHAT  JEAN  BAPTISTS  FOUND  IN  THE  WELL  ....     85 

XII     Miss  STEWART  RECEIVES  A  CALLER 89 

XIII  THE  COMING  OF  THE  RAILROAD 97 

XIV  THE  ADMINISTRATING  ANGEL 107 

XV    OH,  MY  JEAN 115 

XVI    "  BILL  "  PRESCOTT  PROPOSES 123 

XVII    HARVEST  TIME  AND  WHAT  CAME  WITH  IT 131 


EPOCH  THE  SECOND 

I  REGARDING  THE  INTERMARRIAGE  OF  RACES 143 

II  WHICH? 153 

III  MEMORIES  —  N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY 159 

IV  ORLEAN 174 

V  A  PROPOSAL;  A  PROPOSITION;  A  CERTAIN  MRS.  PRUITT 

—  AND  A  LETTER 186 

VI    THE  PRAIRIE  FIRE 190 

VII    VANITY 196 

VIII    MARRIED 207 

IX    ORLEAN  RECEIVES  A  LETTER  AND  ADVICE 212 

X    EUGENE  CROOK 221 

XI    REVEREND  MCCARTHY  PAYS  A  VISIT  227 

XII    REVEREND  MCCARTHY  DECIDES  TO  SET  BAPTISTE  RIGHT, 

BUT— 234 

XIII  THE  WOLF 240 

XIV  THE  CONTEST 247 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV    COMPROMISED 252 

XVI    THE  EVIL  GENIUS 259 

XVII    THE  COWARD 267 

EPOCH  THE  THIRD 

I    CHICAGO  —  THE  BOOMERANG 279 

II    THE  GREAT  QUESTION 284 

III  GLAVIS   MAKES   A   PROMISE 294 

IV  THE  GAMBLER'S  STORY 209 

V  THE  PREACHER'S  EVIL  INFLUENCE   .     .     .     .     .     .     .305 

VI    MORE  OF  THE  PREACHER'S  WORK 311 

VII    A  GREAT  ASTRONOMER 317 

VIII  N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY  PREACHES  A  SERMON    .     .     .     .325 

IX    WHAT  THE  PEOPLE  WERE  SAYING 332 

X    "UNTIL  THEN" 339 

XI    "  IT'S  THE  WRONG  NUMBER  " 346 

XII    MRS.  PRUITT  EFFECTS  A  PLAN 354 

XIII  MRS.  MERLEY 363 

XIV  "  OH,  MERCIFUL  GOD  !  CLOSE  THOU  MINE  EYES  !  "    .     .  369 
XV    "  LOVE  You  —  GOD,  I  HATE  You!" 376 

XVI    A  STRANGE  DREAM 385 

EPOCH  THE  FOURTH 

I    THE    DROUGHT •.     .     .     .    *     .  395 

II    THE  FORECLOSURE 40° 

III  IRENE  GREY 407 

IV  WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN 414 

V  "  TELL  ME  WHY  You  DIDN'T  ANSWER  THE  LAST  LETTER 

I  WROTE  You" 421 

VI    THE   STORY 427 

VII  HER  BIRTHRIGHT  "  FOR  A  MESS  OF  POTTAGE  "    .     .     .     .436 

VIII    ACTION        440 

IX    GOSSIP 446 

X    A  DISCOVERY  —  AND  A  SURPRISE 456 

XI    THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION 464 

XII    THE  BISHOP  ACTS 479 

XIII  WHERE  THE  WEAK  MUST  BE  STRONG .482 

XIV  THE  TRIAL  — THE  LIE—  "As  GUILTY  As  HELL!"  .     .  488 
XV    GRIM  JUSTICE 495 

XVI    A  FRIEND 502 

XVII    THE   MYSTERY 508 

XVIII    "VENGEANCE  is  MINE.    I  WILL  REPAY" 5*5 

XIX    WHEN  THE  TRUTH  BECAME  KNOWN 523 

XX    As  IT  WAS  IN  THE  BEGINNING 529 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  Something  happened  and  I  was  strangely  glad  and  came  here 
because  I  —  I  just  had  to  see  you,  Jean"  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

He  was  young,  The  Homesteader  —  just  passed  twenty-two  — 
and  vigorous,  strong,  healthy  and  courageous 22 

He  raised  on  an  elbow  and  looked  into  her  face  while  she  stag- 
gered forward  in  great  surprise 35 

"But,  Jean,  the  cases  are  not  parallel.  What  I  did  for  you  I 
would  have  done  for  anybody.  It  was  merely  an  act  of 
providence;  but  yours  —  oh,  Jean,  can't  you  understand!"  .  138 

"  Miss  Pitt  was  so  anxious  to  meet  you  and  I  was,  too,  because 
I  think  you  and  her  would  like  each  other.  She's  an  awfully 
good  girl  and  willing  to  help  a  fellow  " 159 

"He's  going  to  kill  you  out  here  to  make  him  rich,  and  then 
when  you  are  dead  and  — "  "  Please  don't,  father !  "  she  al- 
most screamed.  She  knew  he  was  going  to  say:  "in  your 
grave,  he  will  marry  another  woman  to  enjoy  what  you  have 
died  for,"  but  she  could  not  quite  listen  to  that  ....  245 

He  tried  to  throw  off  the  uncanny  feeling,  but  it  seemed  to 
hang  on  like  grim  death.  And  as  he  stood  enmeshed  in  its 
sinister  thraldom,  he  thought  he  saw  her  rise  and  point  an 
accusing  finger  at  him  .  . 518 


LEADING  CHARACTERS 

AGNES,  Whose  Eyes  Were  Baffling 

JEAN  BAPTISTE,  The  Homesteader 

JACK  STEWART,  Agnes'  Father 

AUGUSTUS  M.  BARR,  an  Infidel 

ISAAC  SYFE,  a  Jew 

PETER  KADEN,  The  Victim 

N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY,  a  Preacher 

ORLEAN,  his  Daughter,  Without  the  Courage  of  Her  Con- 
victions 

ETHEL,  her  Sister,  Who  Was  Different 
GLAVIS,  Ethel's  Husband 
EUGENE  CROOK,  a  Banker 


EPOCH  THE  FIRST 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


CHAPTER  I 

AGNES 

THEIR  cognomen  was  Stewart,  and  three  years  had 
gone  by  since  their  return  from  Western  Kansas 
where  they  had  been  on  what  they  now  chose  to  re- 
gard as  a  "  Wild  Goose  Chase."  The  substance  was,  that  as 
farmers  they  had  failed  to  raise  even  one  crop  during  the 
three  years  they  spent  there,  so  had  in  the  end,  therefore,  re- 
turned broken  and  defeated  to  the  rustic  old  district  of  In- 
diana where  they  had  again  taken  up  their  residence  on  a 
rented  farm. 

Welcomed  home  like  the  "return  of  the  prodigal,"  the 
age  old  gossip  of  "  I  told  you  so ! "  had  been  exchanged, 
and  the  episode  was  about  forgotten. 

But  there  was  one  in  the  family,  the  one  with  whom  our 
story  is  largely  concerned,  who,  although  she  had  found 
little  in  Western  Kansas  to  encourage  her  to  stay  there, 
had  not,  on  the  other  hand,  found  much  cheer  back  in  old 
Indiana  so  long  as  they  found  no  place  to  live  but  "  Nubbin 
Ridge."  Although  but  a  girl,  it  so  happened  through  cir- 
cumstances over  which  she  had  no  control,  that  whatever 
she  thought  or  did,  concerned  largely  the  whole  family's 
welfare  or  destiny. 

Her  father  was  a  quaint  old  Scotchman,  coming  directly 
from  Scotland  to  this  country,  a  Highlander  from  the  high- 
est of  the  Highlands,  and  carried  the  accent  still.  But  con- 
cerning her  mother,  she  had  never  known  her.  Indeed,  few 

13 


14  THE  HOMESTEADER 

had  known  her  mother  intimately ;  but  it  was  generally  un- 
derstood that  she  had  been  the  second  wife  of  her  father, 
and  that  she  had  died  that  Agnes  might  live.  She  was 
the  only  offspring  by  this  marriage,  although  there  were 
two  boys  by  the  first  union.  These  lived  at  home  with  her 
and  her  father,  but  were,  unfortunately,  half-witted.  Nat- 
urally Agnes  was  regarded  as  having  been  fortunate  in  be- 
ing born  of  the  second  wife.  But,  what  seemed  rather 
singular,  unlike  her  half  brothers  who  were  simple,  she,  on 
the  other  hand,  appeared  to  be  possessed  with  an  unusual 
amount  of  wit;  rare  wit,  extraordinary  wit. 

She  was  now  twenty,  and  because  she  possessed  such 
sweet  ways,  she  was  often  referred  to  as  beautiful,  although, 
in  truth  she  was  not.  Her  face  was  somewhat  square,  and 
while  there  was  a  semblance  of  red  roses  in  her  cheeks  when 
she  smiled,  her  complexion  was  unusually  white  —  almost 
pale.  Her  mouth,  like  her  face,  was  also  inclined  to  be 
square,  while  her  lips  were  the  reddest.  She  had  a  chin 
that  was  noticeable  due  to  the  fact  that  it  was  so  prominent, 
and  her  nose  was  straight  almost  to  the  point  where  it  took 
a  slight  turn  upwards.  It  was  her  hair,  however,  that  was 
her  greatest  attraction.  Unusually  long,  it  was  thick  and 
heavy,  of  a  flaxen  tint,  and  was  her  pride.  Her  eyes,  how- 
ever, were  a  mystery  —  baffling.  Sometimes  when  they 
were  observed  by  others  they  were  called  blue,  but  upon 
second  notice  they  might  be  taken  for  brown.  Few  really 
knew  their  exact  color,  and  to  most  they  were  a  puzzle. 
There  was  a  flash  about  them  at  times  that  moved  people, 
a  peculiarity  withal  that  even  her  father  had  never  been 
able  to  understand.  At  such  times  he  was  singularly 
frightened,  frightened  with  what  he  saw,  and  what  he  didn't 
see  but  felt.  Always  she  then  reminded  him  of  her  mother 
whom  he  had  known  only  briefly  before  taking  her  as  his 


AGNES  15 

wife.  He  had  loved  her,  this  wife,  and  had  also  feared 
her  as  he  now  feared  this  daughter  when  her  eyes  flashed. 

Her  mother  had  kept  a  secret  from  him  —  and  the  world ! 
In  trust  she  left  some  papers.  What  they  contained  he  did 
not  know,  and  would  not  until  the  day  before  she,  Agnes, 
was  to  marry;  and  should  she  not  marry  by  the  time  she 
reached  thirty,  the  papers  were  to  be  given  her  then  anyhow. 

And  so  Jack  Stewart  had  resigned  himself  to  the  situation ; 
had  given  her  the  best  education  possible,  which  had  not 
been  much.  She  had  gone  through  the  grade  schools,  how- 
ever, and  barely  succeeded  in  completing  two  years  of  the 
high  school  course.  The  love  that  he  had  been  deprived  of 
giving  her  mother  because  of  her  early  death  he  had  given  to 
Agnes ;  she  was  his  joy,  his  pride.  She  read  to  him  be- 
cause his  eyes  were  not  the  best ;  she  wrote  his  letters,  con- 
sulted with  him,  assisted  and  conducted  what  business  he 
had,  and  had  avoided  the  society  of  young  men. 

So  we  have  met,  and  know  some  little  of  the  girl  we  are 
to  follow.  In  the  beginning  of  our  story,  we  find  her  any- 
thing but  contented.  Living  in  quaint  old  "  Nubbin  Ridge," 
could  not,  to  say  the  most,  be  called  illustrious.  It  was  a 
small  district  where  the  soil  was  very  poor  —  as  poor,  per- 
haps, as  Indiana  afforded.  So  poor  indeed,  that  it  was 
capable  of  producing  nothing  but  nubbins  (corn)  from  which 
it  derived  its  name.  When  a  man  went  to  rent  a  farm  in 
"  Nubbin  Ridge  "  he  was  considered  all  in,  down  and  out. 
...  To  continue  life  there  was  to  grow  poorer.  It  was  a 
part  of  the  state  wherein  no  one  had  ever  been  known  to 
grow  rich,  and  Stewarts  had  proven  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  But  this  story  is  to  be  concerned  only  briefly  with 
"  Nubbin  Ridge,"  so  we  will  come  back  to  the  one  around 
whom  it  will  in  a  measure  center. 

Her  chief   accomplishments   since  their  disastrous  con- 


:l6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

quest  of  Western  Kansas  had  been  the  simple  detail  of 
keeping  a  diary.  But  at  other  times  she  had  attempted 
musical  composition  and  had  even  sent  the  same  to  pub- 
lishers, one  after  another.  Of  course  all  she  sent  had  duly 
come  back,  and  she  had  by  this  time  grown  to  expect  the 
returned  manuscripts  as  the  inevitable.  But  since  sending 
the  same  gave  her  a  diversion,  she  had  kept  it  up  —  and  had 
today  received  a  letter !  A  letter,  that  was  all,  and  a  short 
one  at  that;  but  even  a  letter  in  view  of  her  previous  ex- 
periences was  highly  appreciated.  It  stated  briefly  that  her 
composition  had  been  carefully  examined  —  studied,  but 
had,  they  very  much  regretted  to  inform  her,  been  found 
unavailable  for  their  needs.  Although  they  had  returned 
the  same,  they  wished  to  say  that  she  had  shown  some  merit 
—  "  symptoms  "  she  thought  would  have  sounded  better  — 
and  that  they  would  always  be  patient  and  glad  to  examine 
anything  she  might  be  so  kind  as  to  submit! 

She  read  the  letter  over  many  times.  Not  that  she  hoped 
that  doing  so  would  bring  her  anything,  but  because  in  her 
little  life  in  "  Nubbin  Ridge  "  there  was  so  little  to  break 
the  usual  monotonous  routine.  When  she  had  read  and 
studied  it  until  she  knew  every  letter  by  heart,  she  sighed, 
picked  up  her  diary,  and  wrote  therein : 

There  is  little  to  record  tonight.  Today  just  passed  was 
like  yesterday,  and  yesterday  was  like  the  day  before  that, 
except  it  rained  yesterday,  and  it  didn't  the  day  before. 
Papa  and  Bill  and  George  have  just  completed  picking 
corn  —  nubbins,  the  kind  and  only  thing  that  grows  in  Nub- 
bin Ridge.  Verily  does  the  name  fit  the  production !  We 
will  perhaps  have  enough  when  it  is  sold  to  pay  the  rent, 
send  to  Sears  &  Roebuck  for  a  few  things,  and  that's  all. 
George  wants  a  gun  and  thinks  he's  worked  hard  enough 


AGNES  17 

this  summer  to  earn  one.  He  has  found  one  in  the  catalogue 
that  can  be  had  for  $4.85  and  is  all  heart  that  papa  will  get 
it  for  him;  along  with  four  boxes  of  shells  that  will,  all 
told,  reach  $6.00.  Little  enough,  to  say  the  least,  for  a 
summer's  work!  Bill  has  his  mind  set  on  a  watch,  but 
papa  bought  him  a  suit  of  clothes  that  cost  $5.89  two  months 
ago  when  we  sold  the  hogs,  so  I  don't  think  Bill  will  get  in 
on  anything  this  fall  or  winter.  As  for  me,  I  would  like 
to  have  a  dress  that  I  see  can  be  had  through  a  catalogue 
for  a  reasonable  sum;  but  if  it  will  crowd  papa  I  will  say 
nothing  about  it.  He  has  the  mortgage  on  the  horses  to 
pay,  and  by  the  time  we  get  the  few  other  necessities,  it 
will  not  leave  much,  if  anything. 

LATER  —  Papa  has  been  growing  very  restless  of  late.  I 
don't  wonder,  either.  Any  one  that  had  any  energy,  any 
spark  of  ambition,  would  grow  restless  or  crazy  in  Nubbin 
Ridge!  The  very  name  smacks  of  poverty,  ignorance  and 
degeneration!  But  a  real  estate  man  from  South  Dakota 
has  been  in  the  neighborhood  for  a  week,  and  has  told  some 
wonderful  tales  of  opportunities  out  there.  He  has  made 
it  plain  to  papa  that  Western  Kansas  has  been  a  failure  to 
thousands  of  people  for  forty  years;  that  South  Dakota  is 
different;  that  the  rainfall  is  abundant;  the  climate  is  the 
best,  and  that  every  renter  in  Indiana  should  there  proceed 
forthwith.  I'm  surprised  that  he  should  waste  his  time 
talking  with  papa  who  has  no  money,  but  he  seems  to  be 
just  as  anxious  for  him  to  go  as  he  is  for  others.  Perhaps 
it's  because  he  wishes  a  crowd.  A  crowd  even  though 
some  are  poor  would,  I  imagine,  appear  more  like  business. 

Bill  and  George  are  full  for  going,  and  papa  has  hinted 
to  me  as  to  whether  I  would  like  it.  How  should  I  know? 
It  couldn't  be  worse  than  this  place  even  if  it  was  the  jump- 
ing off  place  of  all  creation!  I  have  about  come  to  the 


18  THE  HOMESTEADER 

place  where  I  am  willing  to  try  anywhere  once.  There 
surely  must  be  some  place  in  this  wide  world  where  people 
have  a  chance  to  rise.  Of  course,  with  us  —  poor  Bill  and 
George,  and  papa's  getting  old,  I  don't  suppose  we  will  ever 
get  hold  of  much  anywhere.  But  the  real  estate  man  says 
we  could  all  take  homesteads ;  that  in  those  parts — I  cannot 
quite  call  the  name,  I'll  study  a  while.  .  .  .  The  Rosebud 
Country,  is  what  he  called  it  —  there  had  been  a  great  land 
opening,  and  there  would  be  another  in  a  few  years.  That 
we  could  go  out  now  and  rent  on  a  place,  raise  big  crops 
and  get  in  good  financial  circumstances  by  the  time  the 
opening  comes,  go  forth  then  and  all  take  homesteads  and 
grow  rich!  It  sounds  fishy  —  us  growing  rich;  but  since 
we  have  nothing  we  couldn't  lose. 

He  says  that  people  have  grown  wealthy  in  two  years ; 
that  among  the  successful  men  —  those  who  have  made  it 
quickly  —  is  a  colored  man  out  there  who  came  from  —  he 
couldn't  say  just  where;  but  that  if  a  colored  man  could 
make  it,  and  get  money  together,  surely  any  one  else  should. 
I  will  close  this  now  because  it  is  late,  the  light  is  low ;  be- 
sides I'm  sleepy,  and  since  that  is  surely  one  thing  a  person 
can  do  with  success  in  "  Nubbin  Ridge,"  I  will  retire  and 
have  my  share  of  it. 

A  MONTH  LATER — It  has  happened!  We  are  going 
West!  The  real  estate  man  has  gone  back,  and  papa  has 
been  out  there.  He  is  carried  away  with  the  country.  Says 
it  is  the  greatest  place  on  earth.  I  won't  attempt  to  put 
down  the  wonders  he  has  told  of.  Rich  land  to  be  rented 
for  one-third  of  the  crops  —  and  we  pay  two-fifths  in 
Nubbin  Ridge  where  there  is  no  soil,  just  a  sprinkling  of 
dust  over  the  surface.  Has  rented  a  place  already,  and 
has  made  arrangements  with  the  man  that  we  owe  to  give 
him  a  year's  time  to  pay  the  two  hundred  dollars.  So 


AGNES  19 

we  have  enough  to  get  out  there  and  buy  seed  next  spring ! 
Everybody  says  we  are  going  on  another  "  Wild  Goose 
Chase,"  but  they  would  say  that  if  we  were  going  into 
the  next  county.  It  would  seem  better,  however,  if  we 
would  wait  until  spring,  but  Papa  is  getting  ready  to 
go  right  after  Xmas.  That  settles  it !  I  will  make  no  more 
notes  in  this  diary  until  we  have  reached  the  "  promised 
land."  In  the  meantime  I  am  full  of  dreams,  dreams, 
dreams !  I  had  a  strange  dream  last  night ;  a  real  dream  in 
which  things  happened !  Always  I  have  those  day  dreams, 
but  last  night  I  had  a  real  dream.  I  dreamed  that  we  went 
out  to  this  country  and  that  we  rented  and  lived  on  a  farm 
near  the  colored  man  the  real  estate  man  spoke  of.  I 
dreamed  that  he  was  an  unusual  man,  a  wonderful  person- 
ality, and  that  we  —  he  and  I  —  became  very  close  friends ! 
That  a  strange  murder  occurred  near  where  we  went;  a 
murder  that  no  one  could  ever  understand ;  but  that  in  after 
years  it  was  all  made  plain  —  and  I  was  involved!  Think 
of  such  a  dream!  Me  being  involved  in  anything;  I,  of 
"  Nubbin  Ridge ! "  I  am  sure  that  if  I  told  out  there  the 
name  of  the  place  from  where  we  came  they  would  think 
we  were  crazy!  But  that  was  not  all  the  dream  —  and  it 
was  all  so  plain!  It  frightens  me  when  I  think  of  it.  I 
cannot  realize  how  I  could  have  had  such  a  strange  dream. 
I  dreamed  after  we  had  been  there  a  while  that  I  fell  in  love 
—  but  it's  the  man  I  fell  in  love  with  which  makes  the 
dream  so  unusual,  and  —  impossible !  Yet  there  is  a  say- 
ing that  nothing  is  impossible ! 

I  will  not  record  here  or  describe  the  one  with  whom  I 
fell  in  love.  Strangely  I  feel  that  I  should  wait.  I  cannot 
say  why,  but  something  seems  to  caution  me ;  to  tell  me  not 
to  say  more  now. 

There  remains  but  one  thing  more.     Yesterday  I  hap- 


20  THE  HOMESTEADER 

pened  to  glance  at  myself  in  the  mirror.  As  if  by  magic  I 
was  drawn  closer  and  studied  myself,  studied  something 
in  my  features  I  had  never  seen  before  —  at  least  not  in 
that  way.  I  observed  then  my  hands.  They,  too,  appeared 
unlike  they  had  been  before.  It  seems  to  have  been  the 
dream  that  prompted  me  to  look  —  and  the  dream  that  re- 
vealed this  about  myself  that  I  cannot  understand.  My  eyes 
did  not  appear  the  same ;  they  were  as  if  —  as  if,  they 
belonged  to  some  other!  My  lips  were  red  as  usual;  but 
there  was  about  them  something  too  I  had  not  seen  before : 
they  appeared  thicker,  and  as  I  studied  them  in  the  mirror 
more  closely,  I  couldn't  resist  that  singularity  in  my  eyes. 
They  became  large  and  then  small ;  they  were  blue,  so  blue, 
and  then  they  were  brown.  It  was  when  they  appeared 
brown  that  I  could  not  understand.  I  will  close  now  for 
I  wish  to  think.  My  brain  is  afire,,  I  must  think,  think, 
think! 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    HOMESTEADER 

THE  DAY  was  cold  and  dark  and  dreary.  A  storm 
raged  over  the  prairie, —  a  storm  of  the  kind  that 
seem  to  come  only  over  the  northwest.  Over  the 
wide,  unbroken  country  of  our  story,  the  wind  screamed  as 
if  terribly  angry.  It  raced  across  the  level  stretches,  swept 
down  into  the  draws,  where  draws  were,  tumbled  against  the 
hillsides,  regained  its  equilibrium  and  tore  madly  down  the 
other  side,  as  if  to  destroy  all  in  its  path.  A  heavy  snow 
had  fallen  all  the  morning,  but  about  noon  it  had  changed  to 
fine  grainy  missiles  that  cut  the  face  like  cinders  and  made 
going  against  it  very  difficult.  Notwithstanding,  through 
it  —  directly  against  it  at  most  times,  The  Homesteader 
struggled  resolutely  forward.  He  was  shielded  in  a  meas- 
ure by  the  horses  he  was  driving,  whose  bulks  prevented 
the  wind  from  striking  him  in  the  face,  and  on  the  body  at 
all  times.  At  other  times  —  and  especially  when  following 
a  level  stretch  —  he  got  close  to  the  side  of  the  front  wagon 
with  its  large  box  loaded  with  coal,  which  towered  above  his 
head  and  shoulders. 

Before  him,  but  not  always,  the  dim  line  of  the  trail, 
despite  the  heavy  snow  that  had  fallen  that  morning,  was 
outlined.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  had  followed  it  —  he 
and  his  horses  —  so  often  before  in  the  two  years  since  he 
had  been  West,  that  he  was  able  to  keep  to  its  narrow  way 
without  difficulty  today.  And  still,  following  it  was  not  as 
difficult  as  following  other  trails,  for  it  was  an  old,  old 

21 


22  THE  HOMESTEADER 

trail.  So  old  indeed  was  it,  that  nobody  knew  just  how 
old  it  was,  nor  how  far  it  reached.  It  was  said  that  Custer 
had  gone  that  way  to  meet  his  massacre;  that  Sitting  Bull 
knew  it  best ;  but  to  The  Homesteader,  he  hoped  to  be  able 
to  follow  it  only  as  long  as  the  light  of  day  pointed  the 
way.  When  night  came  —  but  upon  that  he  had  not  reck- 
oned !  To  be  caught  upon  it  by  darkness  was  certain  death, 
and  he  didn't  want  to  die. 

He  was  young,  The  Homesteader  —  just  passed  twenty- 
two —  and  vigorous,  strong,  healthy  and  courageous.  His 
height  was  over  six  feet  and  while  he  was  slender  he  was 
not  too  much  so.  His  shoulders  were  slightly  round  but 
not  stooped.  His  great  height  gave  him  an  advantage  now. 
He  followed  his  horses  with  long,  rangy  strides,  turning  his 
head  frequently  as  if  to  give  the  blood  a  chance  to  circulate 
about  and  under  the  skin  of  his  wide  forehead.  The  fury  of 
the  storm  appeared  to  grow  worse,  judging  from  the  way  the 
horses  shook  their  bridled  heads ;  or  perhaps  it  was  growing 
colder.  Almost  continually  some  of  the  horses  were  striking 
the  ice  from  their  nosepoinis ;  while  very  often  The  Home- 
steader had  to  rest  the  lines  he  held  while  he  forced  the 
blood  to  his  finger  tips  with  long  swings  of  his  arms  back 
and  forth  across  his  breast. 

His  claim  lay  many  miles  yet  before  him,  and  his  con- 
tinual gaze  toward  the  west  was  to  ascertain  how  long  the 
light  of  day  was  likely  to  hold  out.  Behind,  far  to  the  rear, 
lay  the  little  town  of  Bonesteel  which  he  had  left  that  morn- 
ing, and  now  regretted  having  done  so.  But  the  storm  had 
not  been  so  bad  then,  and  because  the  snow  was  falling  he 
had  conjectured  it  would  be  better  to  reach  home  before  it 
became  too  deep  or  badly  drifted.  As  it  was  now  he  was 
encountering  all  this  and  some  more 

"  Damn !  "  he  cried  as  they  passed  down  a  slope  to  where 


From  a  painting  by  W.  M.  Farrow. 

HE  WAS  YOUNG,   THE  HOMESTEADER-JUST   PASSED 
TWENTY-TWO  —  AND    VIGOROUS,    STRONG,    HEALTHY 
AND  COURAGEOUS. 


THE  HOMESTEADER  23 

the  land  divided,  and  where  the  wind  seemed  to  hit  hardest 
His  course  lay  directly  northwest,  straight  against  the  wind 
which  he  could  only  avoid  by  hanging  the  lines  over  the 
lever  of  the  brake  and  fall  in  behind  the  trail  wagon. 
But  this,  unfortunately,  placed  him  too  far  away  from 
the  horses.  He  had  walked  all  the  way,  for  to  walk  was 
apparently  the  only  way  to  keep  from  freezing.  He  soon 
reached  the  other  side  of  the  draw,  and  when  he  had 
come  to  the  summit  beyond,  he  groaned.  Ahead  of  him 
just  above  the  dark  horizon  the  sun  came  suddenly  from 
beneath  the  clouds.  On  either  side  of  it,  great,  gasping  sun- 
dogs  struggled.  They  seemed  to  vie  with  the  red  sinking 
orbit ;  and  as  he  continued  his  anxious  gazing  in  that  direc- 
tion they  seemed  to  have  triumphed,  for  as  the  sun  sank 
lower  and  lower,  they  appeared  suddenly  empowered  with 
a  mighty  force  for  only  a  few  minutes  later  the  sun  had 
fallen  into  the  great  abyss  below  and  the  night  was  on ! 

"  We  can  make  it  yet,  boys,"  he  cried  to  his  horses  as  if 
to  cheer  them.  And  as  if  they  understood,  they  crashed 
forward  with  such  vigor  that  he  was  thrown  almost  into 
a  trot  to  keep  up. 

As  to  how  long  it  went  on  thus,  or  as  to  how  far  they 
had  gone,  he  was  not  able  to  reckon;  but  out  of  the  now 
pitch  darkness  he  became  conscious  of  a  peculiar  longing. 
He  had  a  vision  of  his  sod  house  that  stood  on  the  claim, 
and  he  saw  the  small  barn  with  its  shed  and  the  stalls  for 
four.  He  saw  the  little  house  again  with  its  one  room, 
the  little  monkey  stove  with  an  oven  on  the  chimney,  and 
imagined  himself  putting  a  pan  of  baking  powder  bread 
therein.  He  saw  his  bed,  a  large,  wide,  dirty  — 'tis  true  — 
but  a  warm  bed,  nevertheless.  He  fancied  himself  creeping 
tinder  the  covers  and  sleeping  the  sound  way  he  always  did. 
He  could  not  understand  his  prolific  thoughts  that  followed. 


24  THE  HOMESTEADER 

He  thought  of  his  boyhood  back  in  old  Illinois;  he 
took  stock  of  the  surroundings  he  had  left  there;  he 
lived  briefly  through  the  discontentment  that  had  ulti- 
mately inspired  him  to  come  West.  And  then  he  had 
again  those  dreams.  Regardless  of  where  his  train  of 
wandering  thoughts  began  or  of  where  they  followed, 
always  they  were  sure  to  end  upon  this  given  point,  the 
girl.  The  girl  of  his  dreams  —  for  he  had  no  real  girl. 
There  had  never  been  a  real  girl  for  Jean  Baptiste,  for 
this  was  his  name.  In  the  years  that  had  preceded  his 
coming  hither,  it  had  been  one  relentless  effort  to  get  the 
few  thousands  together  with  which  to  start  when  he  finally 
came  West.  At  that  he  had  been  called  lucky.  He  had  no 
heritage,  had  Jean  Baptiste.  His  father  had  given  him 
only  the  French  name  that  was  his,  for  his  father  had  been 
poor  —  but  this  instant  belongs  elsewhere.  His  heritage, 
then,  had  been  his  indefatigable  will ;  his  firm  determination 
to  make  his  way;  his  great  desire  to  make  good.  But  we 
follow  Jean  Baptiste  and  the  girl. 

Only  a  myth  was  she.  She  had  come  in  a  day  dream 
when  he  came  West,  but  strangely  she  had  stayed.  And, 
singularly  as  it  may  seem,  he  was  confident  she  would  come 
in  person  some  day.  He  talked  with  her  when  he  was 
lonely,  and  that  was  almost  every  day.  He  told  her  why 
he  had  come  West,  because  he  felt  it  was  the  place  for  young 
manhood.  Here  with  the  unbroken  prairie  all  about  him; 
with  its  virgin  soil  and  undeveloped  resources ;  and  the  fact 
that  all  the  east,  that  part  of  the  east  that  was  Iowa  and 
Illinois  had  once  been  as  this  now  was,  had  once  been  as 
wild  and  undeveloped  and  had  not  then  been  worth  any  more 
—  indeed,  not  so  much.  Here  could  a  young  man  work 
out  his  own  destiny.  As  Iowa  and  Illinois  had  been  de- 
veloped, so  could  this  —  so  would  this  also  be  developed. 


THE  HOMESTEADER  25 

And  as  railways  had  formed  a  network  of  those  states,  so 
in  time  would  they  reach  this  territory  as  well.  ,In  fact  it 
was  inevitable  what  was  to  come,  the  prime  essential,  there- 
fore, for  his  youth,  was  to  begin  with  the  beginning  —  and 
so  he  had  done. 

So  he  had  come,  had  Jean  Baptiste,  and  was  living  alone 
with  a  great  hope ;  with  a  great  hope  for  the  future  of  this 
little  empire  out  there  in  the  hollow  of  God's  hand;  with 
a  great  love,  too,  for  her,  his  dream  girl.  So  in  his  pro- 
lific visions  he  talked  on  with  her.  He  told  her  that  it  was 
a  long  way  to  the  railroad  now — thirty-two  miles.  He  had 
that  far  to  haul  the  coal  he  and  others  burned.  There  were 
yet  no  fences,  and  while  there  were  section  lines,  they  were 
rarely  followed.  It  was  nearer  by  trail.  But  he  was 
patient,  he  was  perseverant.  Time  would  bring  all  else  — 
and  her.  He  had  visions  of  her,  she  was  not  beautiful ;  she 
might  not  be  vivacious,  for  that  belonged  to  the  city;  but 
she  was  good.  Always  he  understood  everything  that  was 
hers,  and  he  was  confident  she  would  understand  him.  Her 
name  was  sweet  and  easily  pronounced.  How  he  loved  to 
call  it! 

He  staggered  at  times  now  and  didn't  know  why.  He  had 
wanted  to  be  home  and  in  his  bed  where  he  could  sleep; 
but  home  as  he  now  regarded  it  was  too  far.  He  couldn't 
make  it,  and  didn't  need  to.  Why  should  they  blunder  and 
pull  so  hard  to  get  home  when  all  about  them  was  a  place 
where  they  could  rest.  The  prairie  was  all  about;  and  he 
had  slept  on  the  ground  before  with  only  the  soft  grass  be- 
neath him.  Why,  then,  must  he  continue  on  and  on! 
The  air  was  pleasant  —  warm  and  luxuriant,  and  he, 
Jean  Baptiste,  was  very  tired  —  oh,  how  tired  he  really 
was! 

It  was  settled!     He  had  gone  far  enough.     He  would 


26  THE  HOMESTEADER 

make  his  bed  right  where  he  was.  He  called  to  the  horses. 
But  somehow  they  didn't  seem  to  hear.  He  called  again 
then,  he  thought,  louder,  and  still  they  failed  to  hear.  He 
wondered  at  their  stubbornness.  They  were  good  horses 
and  had  never  disobeyed  before.  He  called  now  again  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  but  they  heeded  him  not ;  in  the  mean- 
time forging  onward,  onward  and  onward!  It  occurred  to 
him  to  drop  the  reins,  but  such  had  never  been  a  custom. 
Within  his  tired,  freezing  and  brain-fagged  mind,  there  was 
a  resolution  that  made  him  cling  to  them,  but  struggling  to 
pull  them  down  to  a  stop  he  continued. 

And  as  he  followed  them  now  onward  toward  the  sod 
house  that  stood  on  the  claim,  all  realism  seemed  to  desert 
him;  he  became  a  chilled  mechanician;  he  seemed  to  have 
passed  into  the  infinite  where  all  was  vague;  where  turmoil 
and  peculiar  strife  only  abided.  .  .  .  For  Jean  Baptiste  did 
not  understand  that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  freezing. 

Stewarts  were  pleased  with  the  country.  They  had  ar- 
rived in  early  January.  The  weather  had  not  been  bad, 
although  the  wind  blew  much  stronger  here  than  it  did  in 
Indiana.  However,  they  had  not  forgotten  how  it  blew 
in  Western  Kansas  and  were  therefore  accustomed  to  it. 
The  house  upon  the  place  they  had  rented  was  small, 
just  four  rooms,  but  it  was  well  built  and  was  warm.  A 
village  was  not  far.  The  people  in  it  called  it  a  town,  but 
you  see  they  were  enthusiastic.  To  be  more  amply  pro- 
vided they  could  get  what  they  needed  at  Gregory  which 
was  seven  miles.  Seven  miles  was  not  far  to  one  who  could 
ride  horseback,  and  this  Agnes  had  learned  in  Western 
Kansas. 

"  You  had  best  not  go  to  town  today,  my  girl,"  cautioned 
Jack  Stewart,  her  father,  as  she  made  ready  to  ride  to 


THE  HOMESTEADER  27 

Gregory  after  ordering  Bill  to  saddle  Dolly,  the  gray  mare 
that  was  their  best. 

"  Tut,  tut,  papa,"  she  chided.  "  This  is  a  day  to  take  the 
benefit  of  this  wonderful  air.  The  low  altitude  of  Nubbin 
Ridge  made  me  sallow;  there  was  no  blood  in  my  cheeks. 
Here  —  ah,  a  nice  horseback  ride  to  Gregory  will  be  the 
best  yet  for  me !  " 

"  I  don't  like  the  wind  —  and  so  much  snow  with  it,"  he 
muttered,  looking  out  with  a  frown  upon  his  face. 

"  But  the  snow  is  not  like  it  was,"  she  argued,  almost 
ready.  "  It's  letting  up." 

"  It's  growing  finer,  which  is  evidence  that  it  is  growing 
colder." 

"  Better  still,"  she  cried,  jumping  about  frolickingly,  her 
lithe  young  body  as  agile  as  an  athlete's.  "  Now,  dada,"  she 
let  out  winsomely,  "  I  shall  dash  up  to  Gregory,  get  all  we 
need,  and  be  back  before  the  sun  goes  down ! "  And  with 
that  she  kissed  away  further  protest,  swung  open  wide  the 
door,  stepped  out  and  vaulted  lightly  into  the  saddle.  A 
moment  later  she  was  gone,  but  not  before  her  father  cried : 

"If  you  should  be  delayed,  stay  the  night  in  town.  Above 
all  things,  don't  let  the  darkness  catch  you  upon  the 
prairie ! " 


CHAPTER  III 

AT  THE   SOD   HOUSE 

SHE  enjoyed  the  horseback  ride  to  Gregory.  Although 
she  trembled  at  times  from  the  sting  of  the  intense 
cold,  the  exercise  the  riding  gave  her  body  kept  the 
blood  circulating  freely,  and  she  made  the  trip  to  the  little 
town  without  event. 

Once  there,  after  thawing  the  cold  out  of  her  face  and 
eyes,  she  proceeded  to  do  her  trading,  filling  the  saddle- 
bags to  their  fullest. 

"Which  way  do  you  live  from  town?"  inquired  the 
elderly  man  who  waited  upon  her  at  the  general  store  where 
she  was  doing  her  trading. 

"  Seven  miles  southeast,"  she  replied. 

"  Indeed !  "  he  cried  as  if  surprised.  "  But  you  didn't 
come  from  there  today  —  this  afternoon?  That  would  be 
directly  against  this  storm !  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Well,  now,  who  would  have  thought  you  could  have 
made  it!  'Tis  an  awful  day  without,"  he  cried  as  he  re- 
garded her  in  wonder. 

"  It  wasn't  warm,  I  admit,"  she  agreed ;  "  but  I  didn't 
seem  to  mind  it  so  much ! " 

"  You  will  not  go  back  today  —  rather  tonight  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  But  it  would  be  very  risky.  Look !  It's  grown  dark 
already !  "  She  looked  out  and  observed  that  it  had  really 


AT  THE  SOD  HOUSE  29 

grown  almost  pitch  dark  during  the  few  minutes  she  had 
lingered  inside.  She  was  for  a  moment  at  a  loss  for  a 
reply,  then,  conscious  that  the  wind  would  be  to  her  back, 
she  laughed  lightly  as  she  said : 

"  Oh,  I  shan't  mind.  It  will  take  me  less  than  forty  min- 
utes, and  then  it'll  all  be  over,"  and  she  laughed  low  and 
easily  again.  The  man  frowned  as  he  pursued: 

"  I  don't  like  to  see  you  start,  a  stranger  in  such  a  night 
as  this.  Since  settlement  following  a  trail  is  rather  treach- 
erous. One  may  leave  town  on  one,  but  be  on  some  other 
before  they  have  gone  two  miles.  And  while  the  wind  will 
be  to  your  back,  the  uncertainty  of  direction,  should  you 
happen  to  look  back  or  even  around,  is  confusing.  One 
loses  sense  of  the  way  they  are  going.  I'd  suggest  that  you 
stick  over  until  morning.  It  would  be  safer,"  he  concluded, 
shaking  his  head  dubiously. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  cried  cheerfully.  She  was 
ready  then,  and  with  her  usual  dash,  she  crossed  the  short 
board  walk,  vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  dull  clatter  of  her  horse's  hoofs  died  in  the  distance. 

With  the  wind  to  her  back  she  rode  easily.  She  enjoyed 
the  exercise  the  riding  gave  her,  and  was  thrilled  instead  of 
being  frightened  over  what  was  before  her.  She  followed 
quite  easily  the  trail  that  had  taken  her  into  the  village. 
In  due  time  she  passed  a  house  that  she  had  observed  when 
going  in  that  stood  to  one  side  of  the  trail,  and  then  suddenly 
the  mare  came  to  an  abrupt  halt.  She  peered  into  the  dark- 
ness before  her.  A  barbwire  fence  was  across  the  trail. 
She  could  not  seem  to  recall  it  being  there  on  her  way  in. 
Yet  she  argued  with  herself  that  she  might  have  come  around 
and  not  noticed  it.  For  a  moment  she  was  in  doubt  as  to 
which  way  to  go  to  get  around  it.  As  she  viewed  it,  it  did 
not  extend  perhaps  more  than  a  quarter  mile  or  a  half  at 


3o  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  most,  after  which  she  could  come  around  to  the  other 
side  and  strike  the  trail  again.  She  gave  the  ever  faithful 
mare  rein  and  they  sailed  down  the  fence  line  to  where  she 
estimated  it  must  shortly  end. 

She  did  not  know  that  this  was  the  old  U-Cross  fence, 
and  that  because  it  stood  on  Indian  land,  it  had  not  been 
taken  up  when  the  great  ranch  had  been  moved  into  the 
next  county  when  giving  up  to  the  settler.  In  truth  only  a 
few  steps  to  her  right  she  had  left  the  trail  she  had  followed 
into  town.  The  old  trail  had  been  cut  off  when  The  Home- 
steader in  whose  house  she  had  seen  the  light,  had  laid  out 
his  claim,  and  it  was  this  which  caused  the  confusion.  She 
did  not  know  that  one  could  go  to  town,  or  to  the  railroad 
today  and  returning  on  the  morrow,  find  the  route  changed. 
Homesteaders  were  without  scruples  very  often  in  such  mat- 
ters. The  law  of  the  state  was  that  before  a  followed  trail 
was  cut  off,  it  should  be  advertised  for  five  weeks  in  advance 
to  that  effect ;  but  not  one  in  twenty  of  the  settlers  knew 
that  such  a  law  existed. 

So  Agnes  Stewart  had  ridden  fully  two  miles  before  she 
became  apprehensive  of  the  fact  that  she  had  lost  her  way. 
Now  the  most  practical  plan  for  her  would  been  to  have 
turned  directly  about  and  gone  back  to  where  she  had  started 
down  the  fence.  But,  charged  with  impatient  youth,  she 
sought  what  she  felt  to  be  the  quickest  way  about.  Now 
upon  looking  closely  she  could  see  that  wires  hung  down  in 
places  and  that  a  post  here  and  there  had  sagged.  She  urged 
the  mare  over  a  place  and  then,  once  over,  went  in  the  direc- 
tion she  felt  was  home.  The  stiff,  zero  night  air  had  some- 
what dulled  her,  and  she  made  the  mistake  of  looking  back, 
thereby  confusing  her  direction  to  the  point  where  after  a 
few  minutes  she  could  not  have  sworn  in  what  direction 
she  was  going,  except  that  the  wind  was  still  at  her  back. 


AT  THE  SOD  HOUSE  31 

She  peered  into  the  darkness  before  her.  She  thought 
there  would  be  lights  of  homesteaders  about,  and  while 
there  was,  the  storm  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  see  them. 
After  a  time  she  became  alarmed,  and  recalled  her  father's 
warning,  also  the  store-keeper's.  But  her  natural  determi- 
nation was  to  go  on,  that  she  would  get  her  bearings,  pres- 
ently. So,  with  a  jerking  of  her  body  as  if  to  stimulate 
circulation  of  the  blood,  she  bent  in  the  saddle  and  rode  an- 
other mile  or  more.  She  had  crossed  draws,  ascended 
hills,  had  stumbled  over  trails  that  always  appeared  to  lead 
in  the  wrong  direction,  and  at  last  gave  up  for  lost  at 
a  summit  where  the  wind  and  fine  snow  chilled  her  to 
the  marrow.  She  was  thoroughly  frightened  now.  She 
thought  to  return  to  Gregory,  but  when  she  turned  her  eyes 
against  the  wind,  she  could  catch  no  sight  of  anything. 
She  was  sure  then  that  she  could  not  make  it  back  there  had 
she  wished  to.  Not  knowing  what  to  do  she  allowed  the 
mare  to  trot  ahead  without  any  effort  to  direct  her.  She 
had  not  gone  far  before  she  realized  that  they  were  follow- 
ing a  level  stretch.  And  because  she  seemed  to  keep  warm 
when  the  horse  moved,  she  allowed  the  mare  to  continue. 
A  half  mile  she  estimated  had  been  covered  when  out  of 
the  darkness  some  dark  shape  took  outline.  She  peered 
ahead ;  the  mare  was  ambling  gently  toward  it,  and  she  saw 
after  a  time  that  it  was  a  quaint,  oblong  structure,  a  sod 
house  apparently,  many  of  which  she  had  observed  since 
coming  West  into  the  new  country.  She  was  relieved.  At 
least  she  was  not  to  freeze  to  death  upon  the  prairie,  a  fact 
that  she  had  begun  to  regard  as  a  possibility  a  few  minutes 
before.  The  mare  fell  into  a  walk  and  presently  came  up  to 
a  low,  square  house,  built  of  sod,  with  its  odd  hip  roof  re- 
posing darkly  in  the  outline.  She  called,  "  Hello,"  and  was 
patient.  The  wind  bit  into  her,  and  she  was  conscious  of 


32  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  bitter  cold,  and  that  she  was  beginning  to  feel  its  severe 
effects.  There  was  no  response,  and  she  called  again,  dis- 
mounting in  the  meantime.  When  she  saw  no  one  she 
went  around  to  where  she  observed  a  low  door  at  which 
she  knocked  vigorously.  From  all  appearances  the  place 
was  occupied,  but  no  one  was  at  home.  She  tried  the 
knob.  It  gave,  and  she  pushed  the  door  open  cautiously. 
All  was  darkness  within.  Then,  dropping  the  bridle  reins 
she  ventured  inside.  She  could  not  understand  why  her 
feet  made  no  sound  upon  the  floor,  but  in  truth  there  was  no 
floor  except  the  earth.  She  felt  in  her  coat  pocket  and 
presently  produced  a  match.  When  the  flaring  light  il- 
luminated the  surroundings,  she  gazed  about.  It  was,  she 
quickly  observed,  a  one  room  house.  There  was  at  her  side 
a  monkey  stove  with  an  oven  on  the  pipe ;  while  at  her  left 
stood  a  table  with  dishes  piled  thereupon.  There  was  also 
a  lantern  on  the  table  and  this  she  adjusted  and  lighted  be- 
fore the  blaze  died.  She  swung  this  about,  and  saw  there 
was  a  bed  with  dirty  bed  clothing,  also  a  trunk,  some  boxes 
and  what  nots. 

"  A  bachelor,  I'd  wager,"  she  muttered,  and  then  blushed 
when  she  considered  her  position.  She  looked  about  fur- 
ther, and  upon  seeing  fuel,  proceeded  to  build  a  fire.  This 
done,  she  passed  outside,  found  a  path  that  extended  north- 
west, and,  leading  the  horse,  soon  came  to  a  small  barn. 
Here  she  saw  two  stalls  with  a  manger  filled  with  hay. 
She  had  to  push  the  mare  back  to  keep  her  from  entering 
and  making  herself  at  home.  She  passed  around  the  barn 
and  entered  the  door  of  a  small  shed,  for  cattle  obviously, 
but  empty.  Hay  was  in  the  manger,  and,  taking  the  bits 
from  the  mare's  mouth,  she  tied  the  reins  to  the  manger, 
unsaddled,  and,  leaving  the  shed  after  fastening  the  door, 
she  carried  the  saddle  with  her  to  the  house. 


AT  THE  SOD  HOUSE  33 

The  little  stove  was  roaring  from  the  fire  she  had  started, 
and  she  was  surprised  to  find  the  room  becoming  warm. 
She  placed  the  saddle  in  a  convenient  position  and  lifted 
her  cap,  whereupon  her  heavy  hair  fell  over  her  shoulders. 
She  caught  it  up  and  wound  it  into  a  braid  quickly,  guiltily. 
.  .  .  She  unbuttoned  her  coat  then,  and  took  a  seat. 

"  There  is  no  one  here,"  she  muttered  to  herself.  "  So 
since  I  don't  know  the  way  home,  and  there's  no  one  here 
to  tell  me,  guess  I'll  have  to  give  it  up  until  morning."  She 
was  thoughtful  then.  This  was  something  of  an  adventure. 
Lost  upon  the  prairie :  a  bachelor's  homestead :  there  alone. 
Then  suddenly  she  started.  From  the  storm  swept  outside 
she  thought  she  caught  a  sound,  and  thereupon  became 
quickly  alert,  but  the  next  moment  her  tension  relaxed.  It 
was  only  the  wind  at  the  corner  of  the  house.  The  room 
had  become  warm,  she  was  uncomfortable  with  the  heavy 
coat  about  her.  She  was  conscious,  moreover,  that  her  eyes 
were  heavy,  sleep  was  knocking  at  her  door.  She  shook  off 
the  depression  and  fell  again  to  thinking.  She  wondered 
who  could  live  there  and  she  continued  in  her  random 
thinking  until  shortly,  unconsciously,  she  fell  into  a  doze. 

She  could  not  recall  whether  she  had  dozed  an  hour  or 
a  minute,  but  she  was  awakened  suddenly  and  jumped  to  her 
feet ;  for,  from  the  storm  she  had  caught  the  sound  of  horses 
and  wagons  passing  the  house  at  only  a  short  distance.  She 
stood  terrified.  Her  eyes  were  wide,  her  lips  were  apart  as 
she  listened  to  the  grinding  of  the  wagon  wheels  —  and  they 
went  directly  toward  the  barn.  Then  all  was  silent,  and 
she  placed  her  hand  to  her  heart,  to  still  the  frightened 
beating  there.  She  heard  the  horses  shake  in  their  har- 
ness, and  came  to  herself.  The  man  of  the  place  had  re- 
turned ;  she  had  taken  charge  of  his  house,  he  a  bachelor  and 
she  a  maid.  She  felt  embarrassed.  She  got  into  her  coat 


34  THE  HOMESTEADER 

and  buttoned  it  about  her  hurriedly ;  and  then  drawing  the 
cap  over  her  head,  she  waited,  expectantly,  although  she  was 
sure  that  time  sufficient  had  expired,  whoever  drove  the 
teams  had  not  come  toward  the  house.  She  could  hear  the 
horses,  but  she  could  not  ascertain  that  they  were  being 
unhitched.  She  was  undecided  for  a  moment,  then,  catch- 
ing up  the  lantern,  she  quickly  went  outside.  Two  wagons 
loaded  heavily  with  coal  greeted  her.  She  passed  to  the 
front  and  found  four  horses,  white  with  the  frost  from 
perspiration,  standing  hitched  to  the  loads.  She  passed  to 
their  heads.  No  one  was  about,  and  she  was  puzzled.  She 
passed  around  to  the  other  side,  and  as  she  did  so,  stumbled 
over  something.  With  the  lantern  raised,  she  peered  down 
and  then  suddenly  screamed  when  she  discovered  it  was  a 
man.  Then,  on  second  thought,  fearing  he  had  fallen  from 
the  wagon  and  become  injured,  she  put  her  arm  through  the 
bail  of  the  lantern,  reached  down,  caught  him  by  the  shoul- 
ders and  shook  him.  He  was  not  injured,  she  was  relieved 
to  see ;  but  what  was  the  matter  ?  In  the  next  moment  she 
gave  a  quick  start.  She  realized  in  a  twinkling  then,  that 
the  man  was  freezing  —  perhaps  already  frozen ! 

With  quick  intuition  she  reached  and  caught  him  beneath 
the  arms,  and  turning,  dragged  him  to  the  house.  She 
opened  the  door,  and  lifting  his  body,  carried  him  in  her 
arms  across  the  room  and  laid  him  upon  the  bed,  Then, 
realizing  that  the  night  was  severely  cold,  she  rushed  out, 
closing  the  door  behind  her,  and  a  half  hour  later  had  the 
horses  unhitched,  unharnessed  and  tied  in  their  stalls.  This 
done  she  returned  hurriedly  to  the  house  to  find  the  man 
still  unconscious,  but  breathing  heavily.  She  did  not  know 
at  once  what  to  do,  but  going  to  his  feet,  took  off  his  shoes. 
This  was  rather  difficult,  and  she  feared  that  from  the  way 
they  felt,  his  feet  were  frozen.  She  rubbed  them  vigor- 


From  a  painting  by  W.  M.  Farrow. 

HE  RAISED  ON  AN  ELBOW  AND  LOOKED  INTO  HER  FACE 
WHILE  SHE  STAGGERED  IN  GREAT  SURPRISE. 


AT  THE  SOD  HOUSE  35 

ously,  and  was  relieved  after  a  time  to  feel  the  blood  cir- 
culating and  the  same  giving  forth  warmth.  She  sighed 
with  relief  and  then  pulling  off  the  heavy  gloves,  she  ex- 
ercised the  same  proceeding  with  the  hands,  and  was  cheered 
to  feel  them  give  forth  warmth  after  a  time.  She  un- 
buttoned the  coat  at  his  throat,  and  rolling  him  over,  man- 
aged to  get  it  off  of  him.  Next  she  unbuttoned  the  collar, 
drew  off  the  cap,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  his  face.  It  was 
swollen  and  very  dark,  she  thought.  She  brought  the 
lantern  closer  and  looked  again.  She  gave  a  start  then  and 
opened  her  mouth  in  surprise.  Then  she  fell  to  thinking. 
She  went  back  to  the  chair  beside  the  fire  and  reflected. 

"  It  is  all  the  same,  of  course,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  But 
I  was  just  surprised.  It  all  seems  rather  singular/'  she 
mused,  and  tried  to  compose  herself.  The  surprise  she  had 
just  experienced,  had,  notwithstanding  her  effort  at  self  pos- 
session, disconcerted  her.  She  turned  suddenly,  for  she  had 
caught  the  sound  of  a  noise  from  the  bed.  She  got  up 
quickly  and  went  to  him.  He  had  turned  from  his  side  to 
his  back.  She  stood  over  him  with  the  lantern  raised.  To 
see  him  better  she  leaned  over,  holding  the  lantern  so  that 
her  face  was  full  in  the  light.  She  had  unbuttoned  her 
coat  at  the  throat,  and  seeking  more  comfort,  had  also  re- 
moved the  cap  she  wore.  She  had,  however,  forgotten  her 
hair  which  had  been  held  about  her  head  by  the  cap  and  it 
now  fell  in  braids  over  her  slender  shoulders.  On  the  in- 
stant the  man's  eyes  opened.  He  raised  on  an  elbow,  looked 
into  her  face,  smiled  wanly,  and  murmured : 

"  It  is  you,  Agnes.  You  have  come  and  oh,  I  am  glad, 
for  I  have  waited  for  you  so  long."  In  the  next  breath  he 
had  fallen  back  upon  the  bed  and  was  sleeping  again,  while 
she  staggered  in  great  surprise.  Who  was  this  man  that  he 
should  call  her  name  and  say  that  he  had  waited? 


36  THE  HOMESTEADER 

But  with  Jean  Baptiste,  he  snored  in  peace.  His  dream 
had  come  true;  the  one  of  his  vision  had  come  as  he  had 
hoped  she  would.  But  Jean  Baptiste  was  not  aware  of  the 
debt  he  owed  her;  that  through  strange  providence  in  get- 
ting lost  she  had  come  into  his  sod  house  and  saved  his  life. 
But  what  he  was  yet  to  know,  and  which  is  the  great  problem 
of  our  story,  the  girl,  his  dream  girl,  Agnes  Stewart,  hap- 
pened to  be  white,  while  he,  Jean  Baptiste,  The  Home- 
steader, was  a  Negro. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SHE  COULD   NEVER   BE  ANYTHING  TO   HIM 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  slept  soundly  all  the  night  through, 
snoring  loudly  at  times,  turning  frequently,  but  never 
awakening.    And  while  he  slept,  unconscious  of  how 
near  he  had  come  to  freezing  to  death  upon  the  prairie,  but 
for  the  strange  coincidence  of  Agnes  Stewart's  having  got- 
ten lost  and  rinding  him,  she  sat  near,  listening  to  the  dull 
roar  of  the  storm  outside  at  times;  at  other  times  casting 
furtive,  anxious  and  apprehensive  glances  toward  the  bed, 
half  in  fear.     More  because  the  position  she  realized  herself 
to  be  in  was  awkward,  not  to  say  embarrassing. 

Her  eyes  became  heavy  as  the  night  wore  on,  and  she 
arose  and  walked  about  over  the  dirt  floor  in  an  attempt  to 
shake  off  the  inertia.  And  in  the  meantime,  the  man  she 
had  saved  slept  on,  apparently  disturbed  by  nothing.  Pres- 
ently she  approached  him  shyly,  and,  taking  the  coat  he  had 
worn  and  which  lay  near,  she  spread  it  carefully  over  him, 
then  tiptoed  away  and  regarded  him  curiously.  Her  life 
had  never  afforded  character  study  in  a  broad  sense;  but 
for  some  reason,  which  she  could  not  account  for,  she 
strangely  trusted  the  sleeping  man.  And  because  she  did, 
she  was  not  in  fear  lest  he  awaken  and  take  advantage  of 
the  compromising  circumstances.  But  in  her  life  she  had 
met  and  known  no  colored  people,  and  knew  directly  little 
about  the  Negro  race  beyond  what  she  had  read.  There- 

37 


38  THE  HOMESTEADER 

fore  to  find  herself  lost  on  the  wide  plains,  in  a  house  alone 
with  one,  a  bachelor  Homesteader,  with  a  terrific  storm 
without,  gave  her  a  peculiar  sensation. 

When  the  hand  of  the  little  clock  upon  the  table  pointed 
to  two  o'clock  a.  m.,  she  put  coal  on  the  fire,  became  seated 
in  a  crude  rocking  chair  that  proved  notwithstanding,  to  be 
comfortable,  and  before  she  was  aware  of  it,  had  fallen 
asleep.  Worn  out  by  the  night's  vigil,  and  the  unusual  cir- 
cumstances in  which  she  found  herself,  she  slept  soundly 
and  all  sense  of  flying  time  was  lost  upon  her.  The  storm 
subsided  with  the  approach  of  morn,  and  the  sun  was  peep- 
ing out  of  a  clear  sky  in  the  east  when  she  awakened  with  a 
start.  She  jumped  to  her  feet.  Quickly  her  eyes  sought 
the  bed.  It  was  empty.  The  man  had  arisen.  She  looked 
out  through  the  little  window.  The  blizzard  had  left  the 
country  gray  and  streaked.  Buttoning  her  coat  collar  about 
her  throat,  she  adjusted  her  cap  by  pulling  it  well  down  over 
her  head,  and  ventured  outside. 

Never  had  she  looked  upon  such  a  scene  as  met  her  eyes ! 
Everywhere,  as  far  as  she  could  see,  was  a  mantle  of  snow 
and  ice.  Here  the  snow  had  been  swept  into  huge  drifts 
or  long  ridges;  while  there  it  sparkled  in  the  sun,  one  end- 
less, unbroken  sheet  of  white  frost  and  ice.  Here  and  there 
over  the  wide  expanse  a  lonesome  claim  shack  reposed  as  if 
lost;  while  to  the  northwest,  she  could  see  the  little  town 
to  which  she  had  gone  the  afternoon  before,  rising  heroically 
out  of  the  snow.  Upon  hearing  a  sound,  she  turned  to  find 
The  Homesteader  leading  her  horse,  saddled  and  bridled 
from  the  barn.  She  turned  her  eyes  away  to  hide  the  con- 
fusion with  which  she  was  suddenly  overcome,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  try  to  find  words  with  which  to  greet  him. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  heard  from  his  lips,  and  turned  her 
face  to  see  him  touch  the  cap  he  wore. 


NEVER  ANYTHING  TO  HIM  39 

"  Good  morning,  sir/7  she  returned,  smiling  with  ease, 
notwithstanding  her  confusion  of  a  moment  before. 

"  I  judge  that  you  must  have  become  lost,  the  why  you 
happened  along,"  said  he  pleasantly,  courteously. 

"  I  did,"  she  acknowledged,  marveled  at  rinding  herself 
so  much  at  ease  in  his  presence,  and  him  conscious.  In  the 
same  instance  she  took  quick  note  of  his  speech  and  manner, 
and  was  strangely  pleased. 

"  I  see,"  she  heard  him  mutter.  She  had  cast  her  eyes 
away  as  if  to  think,  but  now  turned  again  toward  him  to  find 
him  regarding  her  intently.  She  saw  him  give  a  quick 
start,  and  catch  his  breath  as  if  in  surprise,  whereupon  she 
turned  her  eyes  away.  But  she  did  not  understand  the 
cause  of  his  start ;  she  did  not  understand  that  while  he  had 
recognized  her  as  his  dream  girl,  that  only  then  had  he 
realized  that  she  was  white,  while  he  had  naturally  supposed 
his  dream  girl  would  be  of  his  own  blood,  Ethiopian. 

He  lowered  his  eyes  as  this  fact  played  in  his  mind,  and 
as  he  hesitated,  she  again  turned  her  eyes  upon  him  and  re- 
garded him  wonderingly.  And  in  that  moment  the  instance 
of  the  night  before  when  he  had  awakened  and  looked  up 
into  her  eyes  for  the  first  time  when  she  stood  over  him, 
and  had  uttered  the  words  she  would  never  as  long  as  she 
lived,  forget,  came  back.  "It  is  you,  Agnes.  You  have 
come  and,  oh,  I  am  glad,  for  I  have  waited  for  you  so  long." 
"  How  did  he  know  my  name  and  come  to  say  what  he 
did  ? "  was  the  question  she  now  again,  as  she  had  been 
doing  all  the  night  through,  asked  herself.  She  prayed  that 
she  might  find  a  way  to  ask  him  —  how  deeply  her  curiosity 
to  know  was  aroused.  And  then,  while  she  was  so  deeply 
engrossed,  abruptly  he  raised  his  head,  and  his  eyes  fell 
searchingly  again  upon  her.  He  saw  and  wondered  at  the 
curious  intentness  he  saw  there,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  caught 


40  THE  HOMESTEADER 

that  something  in  her  eyes ;  he  saw  what  she  had  seen  before 
leaving  Indiana ;  and  as  she  had  been  when  she  had  seen  it, 
he  too,  was  strangely  moved  and  could  not  understand. 
Apparently  he  forgot  all  else  as  the  changing  color  of  her 
eyes  held  him,  and  while  so,  unconsciously  he  advanced  a 
step  nearer  her.  She  did  not  move  away,  but  stood  as  if  in 
a  thraldom,  with  a  feeling  stealing  over  her  that  somewhere 
she  had  seen  and  known  him  once.  .  .  .  But  where  — 
where,  where!  She  had  never  known  an  Ethiopian,  she 
full  well  recalled ;  but  she  was  positive  that  she  had  seen  this 
man  somewhere  before.  Then  where  —  where,  where! 

As  for  the  man,  Jean  Baptiste,  he  seemed  to  relax  after  a 
time,  and  looked  away.  He  had  seen  her  at  last;  she  had 
been  his  dream  girl ;  had  come  in  a  dream  and  as  she  stood 
before  him  she  was  all  his  wondrous  vision  had  portrayed. 
Her  face  was  flushed  by  the  cold  air,  and  red  roses  in  full 
bloom  were  in  her  cheeks ;  while  her  beautiful  hair,  spread 
over  her  shoulders,  and  fanned  by  a  light  breeze,  made  her 
in  his  eyes  a  picture  of  enchantment.  When  he  observed 
her  again  and  saw  that  her  eyes  were  blue  and  then  again 
were  brown,  he  was  still  mystified ;  but  what  was  come  over 
Jean  Baptiste  now  was  the  fact,  the  Great  fact:  The 
fact  that  between  him  and  his  dream  girl  was  a  chasm 
so  deep  socially  that  bridging  was  impossible.  Because 
she  was  white  while  he  was  black,  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  country  and  its  lawf  she  could  never  be  anything  to 
him 

Her  back  was  to,  the  rising  sun,  and  neither  had  observed 
that  it  was  mounting  higher  in  the  eastern  skies.  She  sup- 
pressed the  question  that  was  on  her  lips  to  ask  him,  the 
eternal  question,  and  in  that  instant  he  came  out  of  his 
trance.  He  turned  to  her,  and  said: 

"  It  was  sure  fortunate  for  me  that  you  lost  your  way," 


NEVER  ANYTHING  TO  HIM  41 

and  so  saying  his  eyes  went  toward  the  place  she  had  found 
him,  and  she  understood.  She  could  not  repress  a  happy 
smile  that  overspread  her  face.  He  saw  it  and  was  pleased. 

"  It  was  rather  providential ;  but  I  would  forget  it.  To 
think  that  you  might  have  frozen  to  death  out  there  makes 
me  shudder  when  I  recall  it." 

"  I  cannot  seem  to  understand  what  came  over  me  —  that 
I  was  in  the  act  of  freezing  while  I  walked." 

"  It  was  a  terrible  night,"  she  commented.  "  I,  too, 
might  have  frozen,  but  for  the  good  fortune  of  my  horse 
finding  your  house." 

"  Isn't  it  strange,"  he  muttered  abstractedly. 

"  I  hadn't  the  least  idea  where  I  was,"  said  she,  musingly. 

"  Such  a  coincidence." 

"  Indeed  it  was ,  but  please,  shall  we  forget  it,"  and 

she  shuddered  slightly. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  readily.     " Where  do  you  live?" 

She  pointed  to  where  the  smoke  curled  from  the  chimney 
of  their  home,  a  mile  and  a  half  away. 

"  The  Watson  place  ?  I  see.  You  are  perhaps,  then, 
newcomers  here  ?  " 

"  We  are,"  and  she  smiled  easily.  He  did  also.  He 
handed  her  the  bridle  reins  then,  and  said : 

"  I  trust  you  will  pardon  my  forgetfulness.  Indeed  I 
was  so  absorbed  in  the  fact  that  I  had  been  saved,  that  I 
forgot  to  —  to  be  courteous." 

"  Oh, .  no,  sir ! "  she  cried  quickly.  "  You  did  not. 
You  — "  and  then  she  broke  off  in  her  speech.  It  occurred 
to  her  that  she  was  saying  too  much.  But  strangely  she 
wanted  to  go  on,  strangely  she  wanted  to  know  more  of 
him :  from  where  he  had  come ;  of  his  life,  for  already  she 
could  see  that  he  was  a  gentleman;  an  unusual  person  — 
but  he  was  speaking  again. 


42  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  You  have  become  chilled  standing  there  —  it  is  severely 
cold.  Step  back  into  the  house  and  warm  yourself  before 
you  start.  I  will  hold  your  horse  while  you  do  so."  And 
he  reached  for  the  bridle  reins. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  again  trusted  him ;  again 
she  experienced  a  peculiar  gratitude,  and  turning  she  obeyed 
him.  As  she  stood  inside  over  the  little  monkey  stove  a  mo- 
ment later,  she  could  see  him,  and  appreciated  how  thought- 
ful he  was. 

She  returned  after  a  few  minutes,  stood  beside  the  animal 
he  had  brought  and  was  ready  to  go.  Suddenly  she  vaulted 
into  the  saddle.  She  regarded  him  again  intently,  while  he 
returned  the  same  a  bit  abstractedly.  She  started  to  urge 
the  mare  forward,  and  then  she  drew  her  to  a  stop  before 
she  had  gotten  fully  started.  Impulsively  she  leaned  for- 
ward and  stretched  her  hand  toward  him.  Mechanically  he 
took  it.  She  unconsciously  gripped  his,  as  she  said : 

"  I'm  glad  it  happened.  .  .  .  That  I  became  lost  and  — 
and  —  you  were  saved."  His  dark  face  colored  with  grati- 
tude, and  he  had  an  effort  to  keep  from  choking  when  he 
tried  to  reply.  In  the  meantime,  she  bestowed  upon  him  a 
happy  smile,  and  the  next  moment  her  horse  had  found  the 
trail  and  was  dashing  along  it  toward  the  place  she  lived. 

And  as  she  went  homeward  over  the  hill,  the  man  in 
whose  life  she  was  later  to  play  such  a  strange  and  intimate 
part,  stood  looking  after  her  long  and  silently. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN    THE    INDIANS    SHOT    THE    TOWN    UP 

THE  CLAIM  of  Jean  Baptiste,  containing  160  acres 
of  land,  adjoined  the  little  town  of  Dallas  on  the 
north,  and  it  was  one  of  the  surprises  that  Agnes 
Stewart  had  not  wandered  into  it  when  she  found  the  sod 
house  and  had  later  found  Jean  Baptiste  in  the  snow. 

The  town  had  been  started  the  winter  before.  A  creek 
of  considerable  depth,  and  plenty  of  water  ran  to  the  south 
of  it  a  half  mile,  and  up  this  valley  the  promoters  of  the 
town  contended  that  the  railroad  would  build.  It  came  up 
the  same  valley  many  miles  below  where  at  a  way  station  it 
suddenly  lifted  out  of  it  and  sought  the  higher  land  to  Bone- 
steel.  Now  the  promoters,  because  the  Railroad  Company 
owned  considerable  land  where  the  tracks  left  the  valley  to 
ascend  to  the  highland,  contended  that  it  was  the  purpose 
of  the  railroad  to  split  the  trade  country  by  coming  up  the 
valley,  and  that  was  why  the  town  had  been  located  where 
it  was,  on  a  piece  of  land  that  had  once  belonged  to  an 
Indian. 

There  were  three  other  towns,  platted  by  the  government 
along  a  route  that  did  not  strike  Dallas,  and  if  the  railroad 
should  continue  the  route  it  was  following  where  its  tracks 
stopped  west  of  Bonesteel,  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that 
it  must  hit  the  three  government  townsites. 

This  had  ever  been,  and  was,  the  great  contention  in  the 
early  days  of  the  country  of  our  story.  But  to  get  back 
to  the  characters  in  question,  we  must  come  back  to  the  lit- 
tle town  near  the  creek  valley. 

43 


44  THE  HOMESTEADER 

The  winter  preceding,  when  the  town  had  been  started, 
men  had  chosen  to  cast  their  lot  with  it,  and  by  the  time 
spring  arrived,  there  was  a  half  dozen  or  more  business 
places  represented.  From  Des  Moines  a  man  had  come  and 
started  a  lumber  yard;  while  from  elsewhere  a  man  had 
cooperated  with  the  promoters  in  establishing  a  bank.  Two 
men,  whose  reputations  were  rather  notorious,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  were  well  fitted  for  what  they  chose,  started 
a  saloon.  From  a  town  that  had  no  railroad  in  the  state 
on  the  south,  a  man  came  with  a  great  stock  of  merchandise. 
A  weazened  creature  had  been  made  postmaster;  while  a 
doctor,  beliquored  until  he  was  uncertain,  had  come  hither 
with  a  hope  of  redemption  and  had  hung  out  his  shingle. 
He  was  succeeding  in  the  game  of  reform  (?)  as  the  best 
customer  the  saloon  had.  A  tired  man  was  conducting  a 
business  in  a  building  that  had  been  hauled  many  miles  and 
was  being  used  as  a  hotel.  Many  other  lines  of  business 
were  expected,  but  at  this  time  the  interest  was  largely  in 
who  the  settlers  were  that  had  come,  and  those  who  were 
to  come. 

A  beautiful  quarter  section  of  land  joined  the  town  on 
the  east,  and  the  man  who  had  drawn  it  had  already  estab- 
lished his  residence  thereupon,  so  that  he  was  known.  On 
the  south  the  land  was  the  allotment  of  an  Indian;  while 
the  same  was  true  on  the  west.  Naturally,  when  it  was 
reported  that  a  Negro  held  the  place  on  the  north,  con- 
siderable curiosity  prevailed  to  meet  this  lone  Ethiopian. 

But  Jean  Baptiste  was  a  mixer,  a  jolly  good  fellow  of  the 
best  type  and  by  this  time  such  was  well  known.  As  to 
where  he  had  come  from,  we  know ;  but  his  name  had  oc- 
casioned much  comment  because  it  was  odd.  To  make  it 
more  illustrious,  the  settlers  had  added  "  Saint,"  so  he  was 
now  commonly  know  as  St.  Jean  Baptiste.  The  doctor, 


INDIANS  SHOT  THE  TOWN  UP  45 

whose  name  was  Slater,  had  improved  even  upon  this.  He 
called  him  "  St.  John  the  Baptist."  But  nobody  took  Doc 
very  seriously.  So  full  was  he  of  red  liquor  most  of  the 
time,  that  he  was  regarded  as  a  joke  except  in  his  profes- 
sion. Here  he  was  considered  one  of  the  best, —  his  re- 
deeming feature. 

The  coal  The  Homesteader  had  hauled  from  Bonesteel 
was  not  all  for  himself,  but  for  the  lumber  yard  which  sold 
it  at  fifteen  dollars  the  ton,  and  the  quality  was  soft,  and 
not  of  the  best  grade  at  that. 

He  hauled  it  into  town  the  morning  following  the  episode 
of  our  story,  and  after  unloading  it  and  taking  his  check 
for  the  hauling,  returned  home,  took  care  of  his  stock,  and 
upon  returning  to  town,  forgot  to  relate  anything  concern- 
ing his  experiences.  .  .  .  Perhaps  he  forgot.  .  .  .  Jean 
Baptiste  could  be  depended  upon  to  forget  some  things. 
.  .  .  Especially  the  things  that  were  best  forgotten. 

He  walked  across  the  quarter  mile  that  lay  between  his 
claim  and  the  town,  and  up  to  the  saloon.  Inside  he  en- 
countered the  usual  crowd,  Doc  among  them. 

"  Hello,  there,  St.  John  the  Baptist,"  cried  that  one  in 
beliquored  delight.  "  Did  you  crawl  through  all  that 
storm?" 

"I'm  here,"  laughed  Baptiste.     "How's  Doc?" 

"  Finer'n  a  fiddle,  both  ends  in  the  middle,"  and  called 
for  another  drink.  Just  one.  It  is  said  that  saloons  would 
not  be  so  bad  if  it  was  not  for  the  treating  nuisance,  Well, 
Doc  could  be  regarded  here  then,  as  practical,  for  he  never 
bought  others  a  drink. 

"  See  you  got  your  nose  freezed,  Baptiste,"  Doc  laughed. 
Baptiste  went  toward  the  bar,  took  a  look  at  himself,  and 
laughed  amusedly  upon  seeing  the  telltale  darkness  at  the 
point  of  his  nose,  his  cheeks  and  his  forehead. 


46  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  T  hell,  I  didn't  know  that,"  he  muttered.  The  crowd 
laughed. 

"  Play  you  a  game  of  Casino?  "  suggested  Doc. 

"  You're  on !  "  cried  Baptiste. 

After  they  had  played  awhile  a  Swede  who  lived  across 
the  creek  entered,  took  a  seat  and  drawing  his  chair  near, 
watched  the  game.  Presently  he  spoke.  "  The  Indians  are 
coming  in  today,  so  I  guess  there  will  be  a  shooting  up  the 
town." 

The  players  paused  and  regarded  each  other  apprehen- 
sively. Others  overheard  the  remark,  and  now  exchanged 
significant  glances.  This  had  been  the  one  diversion  of  the 
long  winter.  Indians  who  lived  on  the  creek,  coming  into 
town,  getting  drunk,  and  then  as  a  sally  ride  up  and  down 
the  main  street  and  shoot  up  the  town.  The  last  time  this 
had  taken  place,  the  bartender's  wife  had  been  frightened 
into  hysterics.  And  thereupon  the  bartender  had  sworn 
that  the  next  time  this  was  attempted,  they  would  have  to 
reckon  with  him. 

The  few  people  about  became  serious.  They  knew  the 
bartender  was  dangerous,  and  they  feared  the  Indians, 
breeds,  mostly,  who  made  this  act  their  pastime.  They 
were  annoyed  with  such  doings ;  but  were  inclined  to  lay  the 
blame  at  the  saloon  door,  for,  although  the  law  decreed  that 
Indians  should  not  be  sold  liquor  they  were  always  allowed 
to  purchase  all  that  they  could  possibly  carry  away  with 
them  inside  and  out.  So  upon  this  announcement,  those 
about  prepared  themselves  for  excitement.  The  news 
quickly  spread  and  to  augment  the  excitement,  a  few  minutes 
later  the  breeds  in  full  regalia  dashed  into  town.  They  tied 
their  horses  at  the  front,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  the  bar. 

"  Whiskey,"  they  cried,  shifting  their  spurred  boots  on 
the  barroom  floor. 


INDIANS  SHOT  THE  TOWN  UP  47 

"  Sorry,  boys,  but  I  can't  serve  .you,"  advised  the  bar- 
tender carelessly. 

"What!"  they  cried. 

"  Can't  serve  you.     It's  agin'  the  law,  yu*  know." 

"  T'  hell  with  the  law ! "  exclaimed  one. 

"  I  didn't  make  it,"  muttered  the  bartender. 

"  You've  been  playing  hell  enforcing  it,"  retorted  another. 

"  Now,  don't  get  rough,  my  worthy,"  cautioned  the  bar- 
tender. 

"  Give  us  what  we  called  for,  and  none  of  this  damn 
slush  then,"  cried  one,  toying  with  the  gun  at  his  holster. 
The  bartender  observed  this  and  got  closer  to  the  bar  for  a 
purpose.  Those  about,  being  of  the  peaceful  kind,  began 
shifting  toward  the  door. 

"  We've  been  breakin'  the  law  to  serve  you,"  said  the  bar- 
tender "  and  you've  been  breaking  the  law  after  we  done  it. 
Now  the  last  time  you  were  here  you  pulled  off  a  '  stunt ' 
that  caused  trouble.  So  I'll  not  serve  you  whiskey,  and 
advise  you  that  if  you  try  shooting  up  the  town  again, 
there'll  be  trouble." 

"  Oh,  is  that  so?  "  cried  the  bunch.  "  Well,"  sniffed  one, 
who  was  more  forward  than  the  rest,  "  we'll  just  show  you 
a  trick  or  two.  And,  remember,  when  we've  shot  your  little 
chicken  coops  full  of  holes,  we  are  going  to  return  and  be 
served."  With  a  hilarious  laugh,  they  went  outside,  got 
into  the  saddles  and  had  their  fun.  The  population  took 
refuge  in  the  cellars  in  awed  silence. 

It  was  over  in  a  few  minutes  and  the  breeds,  true  to  their 
statement,  returned  to  the  saloon,  and  stood  before  the 
bar. 

"  Whiskey,"  they  cried,  and  couldn't  repress  a  grin. 
Ordinarily  they  were  cowards,  and  their  boldness  had  sur- 
prised even  themselves. 


48  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Whiskey  ? "  said  the  bartender,  nodding  toward  the 
speaker. 

"  That's  my  order !  "  the  other  cried  uproarously.  The 
bartender  arranged  several  bottles  in  a  row.  This  they  did 
not  understand  at  first.  They  did,  however,  a  moment 
later. 

"  Very  well,"  he  cried  of  a  sudden  as  his  eyes  narrowed, 
whereupon,  with  deliberation  he  caught  the  bottles  one  by 
one  by  the  neck  and  as  fast  -as  he  could  let  go,  threw  the 
same  into  the  faces  before  him  with  all  the  force  he  could 
concentrate  quickly.  So  quickly  was  it  all  done  that  those 
before  him  had  not  time  to  duck  below  the  bar  before  many 
had  been  the  recipients  of  the  deluge.  Within  the  minute 
there  was  a  wild  scramble  for  the  door  —  all  but  three. 
For  while  the  others  disappeared  over  the  hill  toward  the 
creek,  Dr.  Slater  took  thirty  stitches  or  thereabouts  in  the 
faices  of  the  recalcitrants. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   INFIDEL,   A   JEW   AND  A   GERMAN 

A  MILE  north  from  where  stood  the  house  of  St. 
Jean  Baptiste,  there  lived  a  quaint  old  man. 
He  was  a  widower;  at  least  this  was  the  general 
opinion,  especially  when  he  so  claimed  to  be.  In  a  new 
country  there  may  be  found  among  those  who  settle  much 
that  is  unusual,  not  to  say  quaint  and  oftentimes  mysterious. 
And  in  the  case  of  this  man,  by  name  illustrious,  there  was 
all  this  and  some  more. 

Augustus  M.  Barr,  he  registered,  and  from  England  he 
hailed.  How  long  since  does  not  concern  this  story  at  this 
stage.  Besides,  he  never  told  any  one  when,  or  why  — 
well,  he  had  been  in  America  long  enough  to  secure  the 
claim  he  held  and  that  was  sufficient.  But  that  Barr  had 
been  a  man  of  some  note  back  from  where  he  came,  there 
could  be  little  doubt.  Among  the  things  to  prove  it,  he  was 
very  much  of  a  linguist,  being  well  versed  in  English, 
French,  Polish,  German;  the  Scandinavian  he  thoroughly 
understood  —  and  Latin,  that  was  easy! 

He  had  been  a  preacher  and  had  pastored  many  years  in 
a  Baker  street  church,  London.  Then,  it  seems,  he  con- 
cluded after  all  that  there  was  no  God ;  there  was  no  Satan 
nor  Hell  either  —  so  he  gave  up  the  ministry  and  became 
an  infidel.  And  so  we  have  him.  But  there  was  some- 
thing A.  M.  Barr  had  never  told  —  but  that  was  the  mystery. 

And  while  he  will  be  concerned  with  our  story,,  let  us 
not  forget  that  two  miles  and  more  west  of  the  little  town 

49 


50  THE  HOMESTEADER 

of  Dallas,  there  lived  another,  a  Jew.  He  was  not  a  mer- 
chant, nor  was  he  a  trader ;  then,  Jews  who  are  not  the  one 
or  the  other  are  not  the  usual  Jew,  apparently.  Well,  Syfe 
wasn't,  for  that  was  his  name,  Isaac  Syfe,  and  from  far 
away  Assyria  he  had  come.  He  was  dark  of  visage  with 
dark  hair,  and  piercing  but  lurking  eyes  with  brows  that 
ran  together;  while  his  nose  was  long  and  seemed  to  hang 
down  at  the  point,  reminding  one  of  the  ancient  Judas. 
His  mouth  was  small  and  close;  and  there  was  always  a 
cigarette  between  the  dark  lips.  He  was  of  medium  size, 
somewhere  in  the  thirties,  perhaps,  lived  alone,  on  a  home- 
stead that  was  his  own,  and  so  we  have  Isaac  Syfe.  But 
there  is  another  still. 

He  lived  about  as  far  southwest  of  Dallas  as  Syfe 
lived  to  the  west  and,  unlike  Syfe,  he  was  light,  a  blond, 
thick,  short  and  stout.  His  neck  was  muscular  and  slightly 
bull  like;  while  his  features  were  distinctly  Germanic:  his 
face  was  rounded  and  healthy  with  cheeks  soft  and  red, 
and  they  called  him  Kaden,  Peter  Kaden.  He  also  held 
a  claim,  having  purchased  a  relinquishment  in  the  opening, 
lived  alone  as  did  Syfe  and  numerous  other  bachelors,  and 
did  his  own  cooking,  washing  and  ironing. 

Augustus  M.  Barr  appeared  very  much  impressed  with 
Jean  Baptiste.  He  was  a  judge  of  men,  withal,  and  much 
impressed  with  Baptiste  as  a  personality;  but  the  fact  that 
Baptiste  had  broken  one  hundred  and  thirty  acres  on  his 
homestead  and  now  had  it  ready  for  crop,  the  first  year  of 
settlement;  and  had  wisely  invested  in  another  quarter 
upon  which  a  girl  had  made  proof,  delighted  Barr.  He 
admired  the  younger  man's  viewpoint  and  optimism.  So 
when  Barr  was  in  town,  and  the  conversation  happened 
around  that  way,  he  was  ever  pleased  to  speak  his  praise 
of  Baptiste. 


THE  INFIDEL  51 

It  was  the  day  of  the  Indian  episode  when  Barr,  driving 
"a  team  hitched  to  a  spring  wagon,  came  to  town,  hoping 
that  the  lumber  yard  had  received  the  much  needed  coal. 

"  And  how  about  the  coal,"  cried  Barr  to  the  lumberman 
before  he  drew  his  team  to  a  stop. 

"  Coal  a  plenty,"  replied  the  lumberman  cheerfully. 

"  Good,  good,  good ! "  exclaimed  Barr,  his  distinguished 
old  face  lighting  up  with  great  delight. 

"  Yep,"  let  out  the  lumberman,  coming  toward  the  buggy. 
"  I've  weighed  you,  and  round  to  the  bin  is  the  coal.  St. 
Jean  Baptiste  arrived  last  night  —  that  is,  I  think  he  got 
home  last  night,  although  he  brought  the  coal  this  morning, 
two  loads,  four  tons." 

"  Eighty  hundred  pounds  of  coal,  you  don't  say !  And 
it  was  Jean  Baptiste  who  brought  it!  Now,  say,  wasn't 
that  great!  Not  another  man  on  this  whole  Reservation 
save  he  could  have  made  it,"  he  ended  admiringly. 

"  Jean  Baptiste  is  the  man  who  can  bring  it  if  anybody," 
rejoined  the  other. 

At  this  moment  a  large,  stout  man  came  driving  up  in  a 
one  horse  rig. 

"  Any  coal  ?  "  he  called  lazily  from  his  seat. 

"  Plenty,"  cried  Barr. 

"  Thank  God,"  exclaimed  the  other,  whose  name  was 
Stark,  and  who  held  the  claim  that  cornered  with  the  town 
on  the  northeast,  and  therefore  joined  with  the  Baptiste 
claim  on  the  east. 

"  Thank  Jean  Baptiste,"  advised  Barr.  "  He's  the  man 
that  brought  it." 

"  So?  "  said  Stark  thoughtfully.     "When?  " 

"  Yesterday." 

"Yesterday?" 

"  That's  what  the  lumberman  said." 


52  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Well.  I'll  be  blowed!" 

"  You'll  be  warmed,  I  guess." 

"Well,  I  should  say!" 

"  That  Baptiste  is  some  fellow." 

"  Well,  yes.     Although  I  sometimes  think  he  is  a  fool." 

"  Oh,  not  so  rash !  " 

"  Any  man's  a  fool  that  would  have  left  Bonesteel  with 
loads  yesterday." 

"  Then  I  suppose  we  should  be  thankful  to  the  fool.  A 
fool's  errand  will  in  this  case  mean  many  lazy  men's  com- 
fort." 

"  And  last  summer  you  recall  how  it  rained  ?  " 

"  I  sure  do." 

"  Well,  you  know  that  fellow  would  go  out  and  work  in 
the  rain." 

"  And  has  a  hundred  and  thirty  acres  ready  and  into  crop 
while  I  have  but  thirty." 

"  I  have  but  ten,  but  — " 

"  You  will  be  in  the  hole  —  at  least  behind  at  the  end  of 
this  summer." 

"  But  I'm  advertised  to  prove  up." 

"  And  leave  the  country  when  you  have  done  so." 

"  Well,  of  course.  I  have  a  house  and  lot  and  three  acres 
back  in  Iowa." 

"  And  Jean  Baptiste  has  320  acres.  In  a  few  years  he 
will  have  a  rich,  wonderful  farm  that  will  be  a  factor  in  the 
local  history  and  development  of  this  country;  it  will  also 
mean  something  for  posterity." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care." 

"  You  drew  your  land  and  got  it  free  excepting  four 
dollars  an  acre  to  the  government.  Baptiste  bought  his  and 
paid  for  the  relinquishment.  You  were  lucky,  but  it  will 
be  up  to  Jean  Baptiste  and  his  kind  to  make  the  country. 


THE  INFIDEL  53 

Had  they  been  as  you  appear  to  be,  we  would  perhaps  all 
be  in  Jerusalem,  or  the  jungle.  Let's  load  the  coal." 

"  Good  lecture,  that,"  muttered  the  lumberman  when  the 
two  were  at  the  bin.  "  Lot's  o'  truth  in  it,  too.  Old  Stark 
needed  it.  He's  too  lazy  to  hitch  up  a  team,  so  rides  to 
town  in  that  little  buggy  with  one  horse  hitched  to  it." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  inquired  another,  coming 
up  at  this  moment. 

"  Jean  Baptiste." 

"So?" 

"  Barr  and  Stark  have  just  had  a  set-to  about  him." 

"M-m?" 

"  Stark  says  a  man  that  would  come  from  Bonesteel  a 
day  like  yesterday  was  a  fool." 

"  Why  will  he  partake  of  the  fuel  he  brought  to  keep 
from  freezing,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  Stark  is  too  lazy  to  care.  He's  advertised  to 
prove  up,  you  know,  and  he  always  has  something  to  say 
about  working." 

"  Used  to  come  to  town  after  the  mail  during  the  rainy 
spell  last  summer,  and  upon  seeing  Baptiste  at  work  in  the 
field,  cry  'Just  look  at  that  fool  nigger,  a  workin'  in  the 
rain.' "  Both  laughed.  A  few  minutes  later  the  town  was 
thrown  into  an  uproar  over  the  incident  related  in  the  last 
chapter. 

Now  it  happened  that  day  that  Augustus  M.  Barr  went  to 
the  postoffice  and  received  a  heavy  envelope.  He  glanced 
through  the  contents  with  a  serious  face,  and  put  the  papers 
in  his  pocket.  On  the  way  to  his  claim,  he  took  them  out 
and  went  through  them  again,  and  returned  them  to  his 
pocket.  A  few  minutes  later  he  reached  into  the  pocket, 
drew  out  what  he  thought  to  be  the  papers,  and  silently 


54  THE  HOMESTEADER 

tore  them  to  threads,  and  flung  the  bundle  of  paper  to  the 
winds. 

When  Jean  Baptiste  left  the  town  for  his  little  sod  house 
on  the  hill,  he  saw  A.  M.  Barr  just  ahead  of  him.  He  fol- 
lowed the  same  route  that  Barr  had  taken,  and  when  he 
reached  the  draw  on  the  town  site  that  lay  between  his  place 
and  the  town,  he  espied  some  papers.  He  picked  them  up, 
continued  on  his  way,  and  presently  observed  the  torn  ball  of 
paper  that  Barr  had  cast  away.  He  idly  opened  the  package 
he  held.  He  wondered  at  the  contents  and  as  he  read  them 
through  he  became  curious.  The  papers  had  to  do  with 
something  between  Augustus  M.  Barr,  Isaac  Syfe,  and 
Peter  Kaden. 

"  Now  that  is  singular,"  he  said  to  himself.  He  con- 
tinued to  read  through  the  papers,  and  as  he  did  so,  another 
fact  became  clear  to  him.  Kaden  was  a  sad  character. 
And  because  he  was  so  forlorn,  never  cultivated  any  friend- 
ship, lived  alone  and  never  visited,  the  people  had  begun 
to  regard  him  as  crazy.  But  now  Jean  Baptiste  understood 
something  that  neither  he,  nor  any  of  the  people  in  the 
country  had  dreamed  of.  He  read  on.  He  recalled  that 
the  summer  before  a  young  lady,  beautiful,  refined  but 
strange  at  times,  had  stayed  at  the  Barr  claim.  Barr  had 
introduced  her  as  his  niece.  The  people  wondered  at  her 
seclusion.  She  had  a  fine  claim.  Barr  had  come  to  him 
once  and  spoken  about  selling  it,  stating  that  the  girl  had 
fallen  heir  to  an  estate  in  England  and  was  compelled  to 
return  therewith.  .  .  .  Later  he  had  succeeded  in  selling 
the  place.  She  had  disappeared ;  but  he  had  never  forgotten 
the  expressions  he  had  observed  upon  the  face  of  Christine. 
...  He  had  thought  it  singular  at  the  time  but  had  thought 
little  of  it  since.  He  read  further  into  the  papers,  and 
learned  about  some  other  person,  a  woman,  but  concerning 


THE  INFIDEL  55 

her  he  could  gather  nothing  definite.  He  could  not  under- 
stand about  Christine  either,  except  that  she  had  fallen  heir 
to  nothing  in  England;  was  not  there,  but  not  more  than 
three  hundred  miles  from  where  he  stood  at  that  moment. 
But  there  was  before  him  what  he  did  understand,  and 
which  was  that  there  was  something  between  Augustus  M. 
Barr,  Isaac  Syfe,  and  Peter  Kaden,  and  something  was 
going  to  happen. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   DAY   BEFORE 

NEVER  since  the  night  at  the  sod  house  had  Agnes 
Stewart  been  the  same  person.  She  could  not  seem 
to  dismiss  Jean  Baptiste,  and  the  instance  of  her 
providence  in  getting  lost  and  thereby  saving  him,  from  her 
mind.  His  strange  words  and  singular  recognition  of  her 
was  baffling.  Being  so  very  curious  therefore,  she  had 
since  learned  that  he  was  well  known  in  the  community  and 
held  in  popular  favor. 

She  knew  little  and  understood  less  with  regard  to  pre- 
destination ;  but  she  had,  since  meeting  him,  recalled  that  he 
was  the  one  she  had  seen  in  her  dream  —  and  loved !  She 
tried  to  laugh  away  such  a  freak;  but  do  what  she  might, 
she  grew  more  curious  to  see  him  again  as  the  days  passed ; 
to  talk  with  him,  and  learn  at  last  what  she  was  anxious  to 
know  —  curious  to  know.  How  did  he  come  to  utter  her 
name  and  say  that  he  had  waited f 

And,  coincident  with  this,  she  recalled  anew  what  she  had 
learned  —  which  positively  was  little  —  regarding  her 
mother.  She  had  been  told  that  she  inherited  that  one's 
peculiarity ;  that  her  mother  had  possessed  rare  eyes,  which 
in  a  measure  explained  her  own.  But  she  had  not  been  told 
or  knew  why  her  mother  had  arranged  the  legacy  as  she 
had.  Not  until  the  day  before  she  was  to  marry  must  she 
know.  And  then  should  she  not  have  won  a  husband  to 
herself  by  the  time  she  had  reached  thirty,  she  was  to  have 
the  same  then,  anyhow.  Singular,  but  in  a  sense  practical. 

Well,  it  was  so,  and  she  could  only  sigh  and  be  patient. 

56 


THE  DAY  BEFORE  57 

Most  girls  she  had  known  back  in  "  Nubbin  Ridge  "  were 
usually  married  by  the  time  they  had  reached  her  present 
age.  But  she  was  not  quite  like  other  girls,  and  did  not 
even  have  a  beau. 

She  wondered  if  the  man  she  had  saved  had  a  sweet- 
heart. And  when  she  thought  of  this,  she  had  a  feeling  that 
she  would  know  in  time.  And  as  the  days  passed  she  be- 
gan at  last  to  believe  that  in  some  manner  he  would  play 
a  part  in  her  own  life.  But  Agnes  Stewart  was  too  in- 
nocent to  know  —  at  least  appeared  not  to  be  aware  of  — 
the  custom  of  the  country  and  its  law,  and  therefore 
could  not  appreciate  the  invisible  and  socially  invincible 
barrier  between  them.  'Twas  only  the  man  Jean  Baptiste 
she  saw  and  reckoned  according  to  what  she  understood. 
Therefore,  because  she  could  get  nowhere  in  her  wonder- 
ings,  as  a  diversion  she  turned  to  the  little  diary  and  re- 
corded therein: 

JANUARY  2OTH,  19  —  I  have  not  had  the  patience  since 
arriving  here  to  record  any  of  the  events  that  have  tran- 
spired since  we  left  Indiana.  We  have  been  here  now  nearly 
three  weeks.  Have  not  as  yet  had  time  to  draw  any  con- 
clusion with  regard  to  the  country,  but  this  much  I  can 
cheerfully  say  —  and  which  did  not  prevail  back  where  we 
came  from  —  there  is  spirit  in  the  country,  the  spirit  of  the 
Pioneer. 

The  weather  has  been  cold,  cold  every  day  since  we  ar- 
rived. Because  we  ran  out  of  urgent  provisions  soon  after 
coming  here  I  ventured  to  go  to  Gregory,  which  is  seven 
miles  distant,  for  some  more.  I  have  been  too  much  upset 
over  what  took  place  on  that  memorable  trip  to  say  much 
about  it.  Because  I  have  never  kept  anything  from  him,  I 
told  papa  how  I  started  from  the  town,  became  lost,  and 


58  THE  HOMESTEADER 

stayed  all  night  at  a  house  and  saved  a  man  thereby.  He 
has  been  so  frightened  over  what  happened  that  he  will  not 
let  me  go  anywhere  alone  again  —  not  even  in  the  daytime. 
"  Just  think,  my  girl,"  he  has  said  time  and  again,  "  sup- 
posing you  had  not  stumbled  into  that  house,  you  would 
surely  have  frozen  to  death  on  the  plains !  "  I  somehow  feel 
that  Dolly  would  have  brought  me  home ;  but  that  is  a  matter 
for  conjecture.  But  what  I  say  to  papa  in  return  is: 
"  Had  I  not  gotten  lost,  that  man  that  is  known  so  well  about 
the  country  must  surely  have  suffered  death !  "  This  seems 
to  pacify  him,  and  he  is  pleased  after  all  to  know  that  my 
getting  lost  was  so  provident  and  opportune. 

He  has  met  the  man,  Jean  Baptiste,  (such  an  odd  name,) 
and  likes  him  very  much  —  in  fact,  he  is  very  much  carried 
away  with  him.  I  have  not  seen  him  since  the  morning  I 
left  him  at  his  sod  house ;  but  I  cannot  get  out  of  my  mind 
the  events  that  passed  while  I  was  there.  Always  I  can 
see  him  look  up  into  my  eyes  with  that  strange  recognition, 
and  then  as  he  turned,  call  "  Agnes,  it  is  you.  I'm  glad  you 
have  come  for  I've  waited  for  you  so  long."  What  that 
means  I  would  give  most  half  my  life  to  know.  I  know  that 
I  shall  never  rest  in  peace  until  I  have  become  well  enough 
acquainted  with  him  to  ask  him  why  and  how  he  knew  me. 
Then  followed  the  morning  when  he  talked  to  himself  and 
did  not  know  I  heard.  It  is  all  so  vivid  in  my  mind. 

Of  late  I  have  had  an  uncontrollable  desire.  I  have 
wanted  to  know  more  of  my  mother.  It  seems  that  if  I 
could  have  known  her,  I  would  understand  myself  better. 
I  am  positive  now,  that  she  must  have  been  a  rare  person. 
That  she  was  French  and  very  high  tempered,  papa  has 
told  me ;  and  also  that  she  had  lived  in  the  West  Indies  be- 
fore he  met  her,  but  that  she  was  born  in  France.  As  to 
the  legacy,  he  lays  that  to  her  peculiarity.  She  was  ahvays 


THE  DAY  BEFORE  59 

peculiar  in  a  way,  says  he ;  and  that  at  all  times  she  was  mys- 
terious. She  had  been  over  almost  all  the  world,  and  was 
wise  in  many  things.  He  thinks  I  have  inherited  much  of 
her  wit,  and  that  eventually  it  will  express  itself  in  some 
manner,  which  is  all  so  strange.  I  hope,  however,  it  will. 
To  rise  in  some  manner  out  of  the  simple,  uneventful  life 
I've  lived  would  certainly  be  appreciated ;  but  whatever  it  is 
I  cannot  conclude. 

Should  I  ever  rise  in  any  way,  I  feel  now  it  would  be  due 
in  some  manner  to  my  meeting  that  strange  colored  man. 
I  have  wondered  so  often  since  meeting  him,  how  it  feels 
to  be  a  Negro.  Papa  and  I  have  discussed  it  often  since. 
I  understand  there  is  a  sort  of  prejudice  against  the  race 
in  this  country;  that  in  the  South  they  are  held  down  and 
badly  treated;  that  in  the  North,  even,  they  are  not  fairly 
treated.  Papa  and  I  were  both  agreed  about  it.  We  can- 
not understand  why  one  should  be  disliked  because  his  skin 
is  dark;  or  because  his  ancestors  were  slaves.  But  withal 
I  cannot  understand  how  one  could  deal  unfairly  with  them 
because  of  this.  It  is  said  that  some  of  the  race  are  very 
•ignorant  and  vicious ;  that  they  very  often  commit  the  un- 
speakable crime.  I  suppose  that  is  possible.  If  so,  then 
they  should  be  educated.  Take  this  Jean  Baptiste,  for  in- 
stance, an  educated  man,  and  what  a  gentleman !  But  papa, 
(he  is  very  vindictive!)  he  says  that  only  about  half  the 
colored  people  in  this  country  are  full  blood;  that  in  the 
days  of  slavery  and  since,  even,  the  white  man  who  is  very 
often  ready  to  abuse  the  black  men,  has  been  the  cause  of 
this  mixture.  ...  I  should  think  their  consciences  would 
disturb  them. 

Oh,  well,  I  am  glad  that  I  have  grown  up  where  prejudice 
against  races  is  not  a  custom.  My  mother  was  French ;  my 
father  Scotch  all  through,  and  because  I  know  him  and  am 


60  THE  HOMESTEADER 

so  ingrained  with  his  liberal  traditions  —  even  tho'  he  be 
poor, —  I  am  at  peace  with  all  mankind. 

We  haven't  all  the  money  we  need,  and  the  fact  worries 
me.  Papa  says  he  will  hire  Bill  to  some  one  if  any  one 
should  need  help.  It  might  be  that  the  colored  man  will 
hire  him,  maybe.  They  say  he  is  going  to  hire  a  man. 
Papa  intends  to  speak  to  him  about  it.  The  only  thing  that 
worries  us  is  that  we  have  to  explain  that  weakness  in  Bill 
and  George.  George  is  impossible:  too  slow,  talks  too 
much,  and  would  never  earn  his  salt.  But  if  one  is  patient 
with  Bill  until  he  catches  on,  he  is  an  excellent  worker,  and 
faithful.  I  wish  the  colored  man  would  give  him  the  job. 
He  owns  the  quarter  that  corners  with  us,  which  he  expects 
to  complete  breaking  out  and  putting  into  flax  next  summer, 
so  we  are  told.  If  Bill  could  get  that  job  it  would  be 
handy.  Handy  for  Bill,  for  Mr.  Baptiste,  and  for  us. 

We  have  not  met  many  people  as  yet.  Because  it  is  so 
cold  to  get  out,  I  haven't  met  any  so  to  speak ;  but  papa  ap- 
pears to  be  getting  acquainted  right  along.  We  are  going  to 
town  —  to  Gregory  again  Saturday.  I  am  looking  forward 
to  it  with  pleasant  anticipation.  I  sincerely  trust  it  will  be  a 
beautiful  day.  In  the  meantime  the  clock  has  struck  one, 
papa  is  turning  over  in  bed  and  I  can  hear  him.  I'll  hear 
his  voice  presently,  so  I  will  close  this  with  hopes  that  Satur- 
day will  be  a  beautiful  day  and  that  I'll  meet  and  become 
acquainted  with  some  nice  people. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN   ENTERPRISING  YOUNG   MAN 

WHEN  JEAN  BAPTISTE  had  found  the  papers 
belonging  to  Barr,  and  had  come  to  understand 
that  it  had  been  Barr's  intention  to  destroy  the 
same,  natural  curiosity  had  prompted  him  to  read  into  and 
examine  what  was  in  his  possession. 

But  after  having  read  them,  and  realizing  fully  to  return 
the  same  then,  would  be  to  have  Barr  know,  at  least  feel, 
that  he  was  in  possession  of  such  a  grave  secret,  would  make 
their,  up  to  this  time  agreeable,  relationship  rather  awkward, 
he  was  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  ^o.  So  in  the  end  he  laid  the 
papers  away,  and  waited.  If  Barr  should  make  inquiries 
for  them,  he  would  try  to  find  some  convenient  way  to  re- 
turn the  same.  But  on  after  thought,  he  knew  that  Barr 
would  hardly  start  an  inquiry  about  the  matter  —  even  if 
he  did  come  to  realize  he  had  lost  instead  of  destroyed  the 
papers. 

A  few  days  later  he  saw  Peter  Kaden  in  the  village,  and 
this  time  observed  him  more  closely  than  had  been  his  wont 
theretofore.  Always  sad,  he  so  remained,  and  down  in  Bap- 
tiste's  heart  he  was  sorry  for  the  wretch.  It  was  after  he 
had  returned  home  and  lingered  at  the  fire  that  he  heard  a 
light  knock  at  the  door.  He  called  "  Come  in."  The  door 
was  opened  and  Augustus  M.  Barr  stood  in  the  doorway. 

Baptiste  was  for  a  time  slightly  nervous.  He  was  glad 
then  that  it  was  dark  within  the  room,  otherwise  Barr  must 
have  seen  him  give  a  quick  start. 

61 


62  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Ah-ha,"  began  Barr,  cheerfully,  coming  forward  and 
taking  the  chair  Baptiste  placed  at  his  disposal.  "  Quite 
comfortable  in  the  little  sod  house  on  the  claim." 

"  Quite  comfortable,"  returned  Baptiste  evenly,  his  mind 
upon  the  papers  so  near.  He  didn't  trust  himself  to  com- 
ment. He  waited  for  whatever  was  to  happen. 

"  Suppose  you  are  thinking  about  the  big  crop  you  will 
seed  in  the  springtime,"  ventured  Barr. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Baptiste,  for  in  truth,  the  same  had  been 
on  his  mind  before  Barr  put  in  his  appearance.  "  Suppose 
you  will  put  out  quite  a  crop  yourself  in  the  spring,"  he 
ventured  in  return. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Barr  thoughtfully.  "  I  fear 
I'm  getting  a  little  old  to  farm  —  and  this  baching ! " 
Baptiste  thought  about  Christine  who  was  not  so  far  away 
instead  of  in  England.  .  .  .  He  marveled  at  the  man's  calm 
nerve.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  a  man  of  this  one's 
broad  education  could  be  so  low  as  to  resort  to  fallacies. 

"  No,"  he  heard  Barr  again.  "  I  don't  think  that  I  shall 
farm  next  summer.  In  fact  I  have  about  decided  to  make 
proof  on  my  claim,  and  that  is  what  I  have  called  on  you 
in  regard  to.  I  suppose  I  can  count  you  as  witness  to  the 
fact?"  Baptiste  was  relieved.  Barr  still  thought  he  had 
destroyed  the  papers.  He  was  smiling  when  he  replied : 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  be  glad  to  attest  to  the  fact  you  refer 
to." 

"  Thanks,"  Said  Barr,  and  rose  to  go. 

"  No  hurry." 

"  I  must  go  into  town  on  a  matter  of  business,"  said  Barr 
from  the  doorway.  "Well,"  he  paused  briefly  and  then 
said,  "  I  am  applying  for  a  date,  and  when  that  is  settled  I 
shall  let  you  know." 

"  Very  well.     Good  day." 


AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN  63 

"  Good  day,  my  friend,"  and  he  went  over  the  hill. 

Baptiste  was  thoughtful  when  he  was  gone.  He  looked 
after  him  and  thought  about  the  papers.  He  marveled  again 
at  the  man's  calmness.  .  .  .  Then  suddenly  he  arose  as  a 
thought  struck  him,  and  going  to  his  trunk,  lifted  from  the 
top  the  last  issue  of  the  Dallas  Enterprise.  He  glanced 
quickly  through  the  columns  and  then  his  eyes  rested  on  a 
legal  notice.  He  smiled. 

"  Old  Peter  is  going  to  make  proof.  ...  So  is  Barr. 
The  eternal  triangle  begins  to  take  shape.  .  .  ."  He  got  up 
and  went  to  the  door.  Over  the  hill  he  saw  Barr  just 
entering  the  town.  .  .  .  "  This  is  beginning  to  get  interest- 
ing. .  .  .  But  I  don't  like  the  Kaden  end  of  it.  ...  I  wish 
I  could  do  something.  .  .  .  Something  to  help  Kaden.  .  .  ." 

Saturday  was  a  beautiful  day.  To  Gregory  from  miles 
around  went  almost  everybody.  So  along  with  the  rest 
went  Jean  Baptiste.  He  fostered  certain  hopes, —  had 
ulterior  purposes  in  view.  Firstly,  it  was  a  nice  day,  the 
town  he  knew  would  be  filled;  and  secondly,  he  was  subtly 
interested  in  Kaden.  He  had  seen  by  the  paper  that  he  was 
advertised  to  make  proof  that  day  on  his  homestead.  .  .  . 
Another  thing,  whenever  he  thought  of  Kaden,  he  could 
not  keep  Barr,  and  Syfe,  and  lastly,  Christine,  out  of  his 
mind.  .  .  . 

He  found  the  little  town  filled  almost  to  overflowing 
when  he  arrived.  Teams  were  tied  seemingly  to  every 
available  post.  The  narrow  board  walks  were  crowded,  the 
saloons  were  full,  red  liquor  was  doing  its  bit;  while  the 
general  stores  were  alive  with  girls,  women  and  children. 
A  jovial  day  was  ahead  and  old  friendships  were  revived 
and  new  ones  made.  There  is  about  a  new  country  an  air 
of  hopefulness  that  is  contagious.  Here  in  this  land  had 


64  THE  HOMESTEADER 

come  the  best  from  everywhere :  the  best  because  they  were 
for  the  most  part  hopeful  and  courageous ;  that  great  army 
of  discontented  persons  that  have  been  the  forerunners  of 
the  new  world.  Mingled  in  the  crowd,  Jean  Baptiste  re- 
garded the  unusual  conglomeration  of  kinds.  There  were 
Germans,  from  Germany,  and  there  were  Swedes  from 
Sweden,  Danes  from  Denmark,  Norwegians  from  Norway. 
There  were  Poles,  and  Finns  and  Lithuanians  and  Russians ; 
there  were  French  and  a  few  English;  but  of  his  race  he 
was  the  only  one. 

As  a  whole  the  greater  portion  were  from  the  northern 
parts  of  the  United  States,  and  he  was  glad  that  they  were. 
With  them  there  was  no  "  Negro  problem,"  and  he  was 
glad  there  was  not.  The  world  was  too  busy  to  bother  with 
such :  he  was  glad  to  know  he  could  work  unhampered.  He 
was  looked  at  curiously  by  many.  To  the  young,  a  man  of 
his  skin  was  something  rare,  something  new.  He  smiled 
over  it  with  equal  amusement,  and  then  in  a  store  he  walked 
right  into  Agnes,  the  first  time  he  had  seen  her  since  the 
morning  at  the  sod  house.  He  was  greatly  surprised,  and 
rather  flustrated, —  and  was  glad  again  his  skin  was  dark. 
She  could  not  see  the  blood  that  went  to  his  face;  while 
with  her,  it  showed  most  furiously. 

As  the  meeting  was  unexpected,  all  she  had  thought  and 
felt  in  the  weeks  since,  came  suddenly  to  the  surface  in  her 
expression.  In  spite  of  her  effort  at  self  control,  her  blush- 
ing face  evidenced  her  confusion  upon  seeing  him  again. 
But  with  an  effort,  she  managed  to  bow  courteously,  while 
he  was  just  as  dignified.  They  would  have  passed  and 
gone  their  ways  had  it  not  been  that  in  that  instant  another, 
a  lady,  a  neighbor  and  friend  of  Baptiste's,  came  upon  them. 
She  had  become  acquainted  with  Agnes  that  day,  and  was 


AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN  65 

very  fond  of  Baptiste.  Although  her  name  was  Reynolds, 
she  was  a  red  blooded  German,  sociable,  kind  and  obliging. 
She  had  not  observed  that  they  had  exchanged  greetings  — 
did  not  know,  obviously,  that  the  two  were  acquainted; 
wherefore,  her  neighborly  instincts  became  assertive. 

Coming  forward  volubly,  anxiously,  she  caught  Baptiste 
by  the  hand  and  shook  it  vigorously.  "  Mr.  Baptiste,  Mr. 
Baptiste !  "  she  cried,  punctuating  the  hand  shaking  with  her 
voice  full  of  joy,  her  red,  healthy  face  beaming  with  smiles. 
"  How  very  glad  I  am  to  see  you !  You  have  not  been  to 
see  us  for  an  age,  and  I  have  asked  Tom  where  you  were. 
We  feared  you  had  gone  off  and  done  something  serious," 
whereupon  she  winked  mischievously.  Baptiste  understood 
and  smiled. 

"  You  are  certainly  looking  well  for  an  old  bachelor/'  she 
commented,  after  releasing  his  hand  and  looking  into  his 
face  seriously,  albeit  amusedly,  mischievously.  "  We  were 
at  Dallas  and  got  some  of  the  coal  you  were  brave  enough 
to  bring  from  Bonesteel  that  awful  cold  day.  My,  Jean, 
you  certainly  are  possessed  with  great  nerve!  While  that 
coal  to  everybody  was  a  godsend,  yet  think  of  the  risk 
you  took !  Why,  supposing  you  had  gotten  lost  in  that  ter- 
rific storm;  lost  as  people  have  been  in  the  West  before! 
You  must  be  careful,"  she  admonished,  kindly.  "  You  are 
really  too  fine  a  young  man  to  go  out  here  and  get  frozen  to 
death,  indeed ! "  Baptiste  started  perceptibly.  She  re- 
garded him  questioningly.  Unconsciously  his  eyes  wan- 
dered toward  Agnes  who  stood  near,  absorbed  in  all  Mrs. 
Reynolds  had  been  saying.  His  eyes  met  hers  briefly,  and 
the  events  of  the  night  at  the  sod  house  passed  through  the 
minds  of  both.  The  next  moment  they  looked  away,  and 
Mrs.  Reynolds,  not  understanding,  glanced  toward  Agnes. 


66  THE  HOMESTEADER 

She  was  by  disposition  versatile.  But  she  caught  her  breath 
now  with  sudden  equanimity,  as  she  turned  to  Agnes  and 
cried : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Stewart,  you !  "  she  smiled  with  her  usual  de- 
light and  going  toward  Agnes  caught  her  arm  affectionately, 
and  then,  with  face  still  beaming,  she  turned  to  where  Bap- 
tiste  stood. 

"  I  want  you,  Miss  Stewart,"  she  said  with  much  ostenta- 
tion, "  to  meet  one  of  our  neighbors  and  friends ;  one  of  the 
most  enterprising  young  men  of  the  country,  Mr.  Jean  Bap- 
tiste.  Mr.  Baptiste,  Miss  Agnes  Stewart."  She  did  it 
gracefully,  and  for  a  time  was  overcome  by  her  own  vanity. 
In  the  meantime  the  lips  of  both  those  before  her  parted  to 
say  that  they  had  met,  and  then  slowly,  understandingly,  they 
saw  that  this  would  mean  to  explain.  .  .  .  Their  faces 
lighted  with  the  logic  of  meeting  formally,  and  greetings 
were  exchanged  to  fit  the  occasion. 

For  the  first  time  he  was  permitted  to  see  her,  to  regard 
her  as  the  real  Agnes.  There  was*  no  embarrassment  in  her 
face  but  composure  as  she  extended  her  small  ungloved  hand 
this  time  and  permitted  it  to  rest  lightly  in  his  palm.  She 
smiled  easily  as  she  accepted  his  ardent  gaze  and  showed  a 
row  of  even  white  teeth  momentarily  before  turning  coquet- 
ishly  away. 

He  regarded  her  intimately  in  one  sweep  of  his  eyes. 
She  accepted  this  also  with  apparent  composure.  She  was 
now  fully  normal  in  her  composition.  That  about  her  which 
others  had  understood,  and  were  inspired  to  call  beautiful 
now  seemed  to  strangely  affect  him. 

Was  it  because  he  was  hungry  for  woman's  love;  be- 
cause since  he  had  looked  upon  this  land  of  promise  and 
out  of  the  visions  she  had  come  to  him  in  those  long  silent 
days;  because  of  his  lonely  young  life  there  in  the  sod 


AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN  67 

house  she  had  communed  with  him;  was  it  that  he  had 
imagined  her  sweet  radiance  that  now  caused  him  to  feel 
that  she  was  beautiful? 

She  had  looked  away  only  briefly,  as  if  to  give  him  time 
to  think,  to  consider  her,  and  then  she  turned  her  eyes  upon 
him  again.  She  regarded  him  frankly  then,  albeit  admir- 
ingly. She  wanted  to  hear  him  say  something.  She  was 
not  herself  aware  of  how  anxious  she  was  to  hear  him 
speak;  for  him  to  say  anything,  would  please  her.  And 
as  she  stood  before  him  in  her  sweet  innocence,  all  the 
goodness  she  possessed,  the  heart  and  desire  always  to  be 
kind,  to  do  for  others  as  she  had  always,  was  revealed  to 
him.  His  dream  girl  she  was,  and  in  reality  she  had  not 
disappointed  him. 

If  visionary  he  had  loved  her,  he  now  saw  her  and  what 
was  hers.  Her  wondrous  hair,  rolled  into  a  frivolous  knot 
at  the  back  of  her  head  made  her  face  appear  the  least 
slender  when  it  was  really  square ;  the  chestnut  glint  of  it 
seemed  to  contrast  coquettishly  with  her  white  skin;  and 
the  life,  the  healthy,  cheerful  life  that  now  gave  vigor  to 
her  blood  brought  faint  red  roses  to  her  cheeks ;  roses  that 
seemed  to  come  and  go.  Her  red  lips  seemed  to  tempt  him, 
he  was  captivated.  He  forgot  in  this  intimate  survey  that 
she  was  of  one  race  while  he,  Jean  Baptiste,  was  of  another. 
.  .  .  And  that  between  their  two  races,  the  invisible  barrier, 
the  barrier  which,  while  invisible  was  so  absolute,  so  strong, 
so  impossible  of  melting  that  it  was  best  for  the  moment 
that  he  forget  it. 

While  all  he  saw  passed  in  a  moment,  he  regarded  her 
slenderness  as  she  stood  buttoned  in  the  long  coat,  and 
wondered  how  she,  so  slight  and  fragile,  had  been  able  to 
lift  his  heavy  frame  upon  the  bed  where  he  had  found 
himself.  And  still  before  words  had  passed  between  them, 


68  THE  HOMESTEADER 

he  saw  her  again,  and  that  singularity  in  the  eyes  had  come 
back;  they  were  blue  and  then  they  were  brown,  but  withal 
they  were  so  baffling.  He  did  not  seem  to  understand  her 
when  they  were  like  this,  yet  when  so  he  felt  strangely  a 
greater  right,  the  right  to  look  into  and  feast  in  what  he 
saw,  regardless  of  the  custom  of  the  country  and  its  law. 
.  .  .  And  still  while  he  was  not  aware  of  it,  Jean  Baptiste 
icame  to  feel  that  there  was  something  between  them. 
Though  infinite,  in  the  life  that  was  to  come,  he  now  came 
strangely  to  feel  sure  that  he  was  to  know  her,  to  become 
more  intimately  acquainted  with  her,  and  with  this  con- 
sciousness he  relaxed.  The  spell  that  had  come  from  meet- 
ing her  again,  from  being  near  her,  from  holding  her  hand 
in  his  though  formally,  the  exchange  of  words  passed  and 
he  gradually  became  his  usual  self ;  the  self  that  had  always 
been  his  in  this  land  where  others  than  those  of  the  race  to 
which  he  belonged  were  the  sole  inhabitants.  He  was  re- 
lieved when  he  heard  Mrs.  Reynolds'  voice : 

"  Miss  Stewart  and  her  folks  have  just  moved  out  from 
Indiana,  Jean,  and  are  renting  on  the  Watson  place  over 
east  of  you;  the  place  that  corners  with  the  quarter  you 
purchased  last  fall,  you  understand." 

"  Indeed !  "  Baptiste  echoed  with  feigned  ignorance,  his 
eyebrows  dilating. 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on  with  concern,  "  And  you  are  neigh- 
bors." 

"  I'm  glad  —  honored,"  Baptiste  essayed. 

"  He  is  flattering,"  blushed  Agnes,  but  she  was  pleased. 

"  And  you'll  find  Mr.  Baptiste  the  finest  kind  of  neighbor, 
too,"  cried  Mrs.  Reynolds  with  equal  delight. 

"  I'm  a  bad  neighbor,  Miss  Stewart,"  he  disdained.  "  Our 
friend  here,  Mrs.  Reynolds,  you  see,  is  full  of  flattery." 

"I  don't  believe  so,  Mr.  Baptiste,"  she  defended,  glad 


AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN  69 

lo  be  given  an  opportunity  to  speak.  "  We  have  just  be- 
come acquainted,  but  papa  has  told  me  of  hei>  and  the 
family,  and  I'm  sure  we  will  be  the  best  of  friends,  won't 
we  ?  "  she  ended  with  her  eyes  upon  Mrs.  Reynolds. 

"Bless  you,  yes!  Who  could  keep  from  liking  you?" 
whereupon  she  caught  Agnes  close  and  kissed  her  impul- 
sively. 

"  Oh,  say,  now,"  cried  Baptiste,  and  then  stopped. 

"  You're  not  a  woman,"  laughed  Mrs.  Reynolds,  "  but  you 
understand,"  she  added  reprovingly.  Suddenly  her  face 
lit  up  with  a  new  thought,  and  the  usual  smiling  gave  way 
to  seriousness,  as  she  cried: 

"  By  the  way,  Jean.  We  hear  that  you  are  going  to  hire 
a  man  tkis  spring,  and  that  reminds  me  that  Miss  Stewart's 
father  has  two  boys  —  her  brothers  —  whom  he  has  not 
work  enough  nor  horses  enough  to  use,  so  he  wishes  to  hire 
one  out"  She  paused  to  observe  Agnes,  who  had  also  be- 
come serious  and  was  looking  up  at  her. 

At  this  point  she  turned  to  Baptiste,  and  with  a  slight 
hesitation,  she  said: 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  hire  a  man  —  Mr. —  a  —  Mr. 
Baptiste  ? "  Saying  it  had  heightened  her  color,  and  the 
anxiety  in  her  tone  caused  her  to  appear  more  serious.  She 
had  turned  her  eyes  up  to  his  and  he  was  for  the  instant  cap- 
tivated again  with  the  thought  that  she  was  beautiful.  His 
answer,  however,  was  calm. 

"  I  must  have  a  man,"  he  acknowledged.  "  I  have  more 
work  than  I  can  do  alone." 

"  Why,  papa  wishes  to  hire  Bill  — "  It  was  natural  to  say 
Bill  because  it  was  Bill  they  always  hired,  although  George 
was  the  older;  but  since  we  know  why  George  was  never 
offered,  we  return  to  her.  "  I  should  say  William,"  she 
corrected  awkwardlv.  and  with  an  effort  she  cast  it  out  of 


70  THE  HOMESTEADER 

her  mind  and  went  on :  "  So  if  —  if  you  think  you  could 
—  a  —  use  him,  or  would  care  to  give  him  the  job,"  she 
was  annoyed  with  the  fact  that  Bill  was  halfwitted,  and  it 
confused  her,  which  explains  the  slight  catches  in  her  voice. 
But  bravely  she  continued,  "  That  is,  if  you  have  not  already 
given  some  one  else  the  job,  you  could  speak  to  papa,  and 
he  would  be  pleased,  I'm  sure."  She  ended  with  evident 
relief ;  but  the  thought  that  had  confused  her,  being  still  in 
her  mind,  her  face  was  dark  with  a  confusion  that  he  did 
not  understand. 

Hoping  to  relieve  the  annoyance  he  could  see,  although 
not  understanding  the  cause  of  it,  he  spoke  up  quickly. 

"  I  have  not  hired  a  man,  and  have  no  other  in  sight ; 
so  your  suggestion,  Miss,  regarding  your  brother  meets 
with  my  favor.  I  will  endeavor  therefore,  to  see  your 
father  today  if  possible,  if  not,  later,  and  discuss  the  mat- 
ter pro  and  con." 

He  had  made  it  so  easy  for  her,  and  she  was  overly 
gracious  as  she  attempted  to  have  him  understand  in  some 
manner  that  her  brother  was  afflicted.  So  her  effort  this 
time  was  a  bit  braver,  notwithstanding  as  anxious,  however, 
as  before. 

"  Oh,  papa  will  be  glad  to  have  my  brother  work  for  you, 
and  I  wish  you  would  —  would  please  not  hire  any  other 
until  you  have  talked  with  him."  She  paused  again  as  if 
to  gather  courage  for  the  final  drive. 

"  You  will  find  my  brother  faithful,  and  honest,  and  a 
good  worker;  but  —  but — "  it  seemed  that  she  could  not 
avoid  the  break  in  her  voice  when  she  came  to  this  all  em- 
barrassing point,  "  but  sometimes  —  he  —  he  makes  mis- 
takes. He  is  a  little  awkward,  a  little  bunglesome  in  start- 
ing, but  if  you  would  —  could  exercise  just  a  little  patience 
for  a  few  days  —  a  day,  I  am  sure  he  would  please  you." 


AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN  71 

It  was  out  at  last.  She  was  sure  he  would  understand. 
It  had  cost  her  such  an  effort  to  try  to  make  it  plain  with- 
out just  coming  out  and  saying  he  was  halfwitted.  She 
was  not  aware  that  in  concluding  she  had  done  so  appeal- 
ingly.  He  had  observed  it  and  his  man's  heart  went  out  to 
her  in  her  distress.  He  remembered  then  too,  although  he 
had  on  their  first  meeting  forgotten  that  he  had  been  told 
all  about  her  brothers,  and  had  also  heard  of  her. 

"  You  need  have  no  fear  there,  Miss  Stewart,"  he  wil- 
fully lied.  "  I  am  the  most  patient  man  in  the  world." 
He  wondered  then  at  himself,  that  he  could  lie  so  easily. 
His  one  great  failing  was  his  impatience,  and  he  knew  it. 
Because  he  did  and  felt  that  he  tried  to  crush  it,  was  his 
redeeming  feature  in  this  respect.  But  the  words  had  light- 
ened her  burden,  and  there  was  heightening  of  her  color,  as 
she  spoke  now  with  unfeigned  delight: 

"  Oh,  that  is  indeed  kind  of  you.  I  am  so  glad  to  hear 
you  say  so.  Bill  is  a  good  hand  —  everybody  likes  him 
after  he  has  worked  a  while.  It  is  because  he  is  a  little 
awkward  and  forgetful  in  the  beginning  that  worries  my 
father  and  me.  So  I'm  glad  you  know  now  and  will  not  be 
impatient." 

In  truth  while  she  did  not  know  it,  Jean  was  pleased  with 
the  prospect.  He  had  not  lived  two  years  in  the  country, 
the  new  country,  without  having  experienced  the  difficulty 
that  comes  with  the  usual  hired  man.  The  class  of  men, 
with  the  exception  of  a  homesteader,  who  came  to  the 
country  for  work  usually  fell  into  the  pastime  of  gambling 
and  drinking  which  seemed  to  be  contagious,  and  many 
were  the  griefs  they  gave  those  by  whom  they  were  em- 
ployed. And  Jean  Baptiste,  now  that  she  had  made  it  plain 
regarding  her  brother,  had  something  to  say  himself. 

"  There  is  one  little  thing  I  should  like  to  mention,  Miss 


72  THE  HOMESTEADER 

Stewart,"  he  said  with  apparent  seriousness.  She  caught 
her  breath  with  renewed  anxiety  as  she  returned  his  look. 
In  the  next  instant  she  was  relieved,  however,  as  he  said: 
"  You  understand  that  I  am  baching,  a  bachelor,  and  the 
fare  of  bachelors  is,  I  trust  you  will  appreciate,  not  always 
the  best."  He  paused  as  he  thought  of  how  she  must  feel 
after  having  seen  the  way  he  kept  his  house,  and  hoped 
that  she  could  overlook  the  condition  in  which  she  knew  he 
kept  it.  But  if  he  was  embarrassed  at  the  thought  of  it,  it 
was  not  so  with  her.  For  her  sympathy  went  out  to  him. 
She  was  conscious  of  how  inconvenient  it  must  be  to  bach, 
to  live  alone  as  he  was  doing,  and  to  work  so  hard. 

"  It  is  not  always  to  hired  men's  liking  to  forego  the 
meals  -that  only  women  can  prepare,  and  for  that  reason 
it  is  sometimes  difficult  for  us  to  keep  men." 

"  Oh,  you  will  not  have  to  worry  as  to  that,  Mr.  Bap- 
tiste,"  she  assured  him  pleasantly.  She  caught  her  breath 
with  something  joyous  apparently  as  she  turned  to  him. 
"  You  see,  we  live  almost  directly  between  your  two  places, 
and  my  brother  can  stay  home  and  save  you  that  trouble  and 
bother."  She  was  glad  that  she  could  be  of  assistance  to 
him  in  some  way,  though  it  be  indirectly.  With  sudden  im- 
pulse, she  turned  to  Mrs.  Reynolds  who  had  not  inter- 
rupted : 

"It  will  be  nice,  now,  won't  it?" 

"  Just  dandy,"  the  other  agreed  readily.  "  I  am  so  glad 
we  all  three  met  here,"  she  went  on.  "  In  meeting  we  have 
fortunately  been  of  some  service  to  each  other.  You  will 
find  Mr.  Baptiste  a  fine  fellow  to  work  for.  We  let  our 
boys  go  over  and  help  him  out  when  he's  pushed,  and  we 
know  he  appreciates  it  to  the  fullest."  She  halted,  turned 
now  mischievously  to  Baptiste  and  cried: 

"  We  are  always  after  Jean  that  he  should  marry.     Why, 


AN  ENTERPRISING  YOUNG  MAN  73 

just  think  what  a  good  husband  he  would  make  some  nice 
girl."  She  had  found  her  topic,  had  Mrs.  Reynolds.  Of 
all  topics,  she  preferred  to  jolly  the  single  with  getting 
married  to  anything  else,  so  she  went  on  with  delight. 

"  He  goes  off  down  to  Chicago  every  winter  and  we  wait 
to  see  the  girl  when  he  returns,  but  always  he  disappoints 
us."  She  affected  a  frown  a  moment  before  resuming: 
"  It  is  certainly  too  bad  that  some  good  girl  must  do  without 
a  home  and  the  happiness  that  is  due  her,  while  he  lives 
there  alone,  having  no  comfort  but  what  he  gets  when  he 
goes  visiting."  She  affected  to  appear  serious  and  to  have 
him  feel  it,  while  he  could  do  nothing  but  grin  awkwardly. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Reynolds,  you're  hard  on  a  fellow.  My ! 
Give  him  a  chance.  It  takes  two  to  make  a  bargain.  I 
can't  marry  myself."  He  caught  the  eyes  of  Agnes  who 
was  enjoying  his  tender  expression.  Indeed  the  subject 
appealed  to  him,  and  he  had  found  it  to  his  liking.  She 
blushed.  She  enjoyed  the  humor. 

"  I  suspect  Mrs.  Reynolds  speaks  the  truth,"  she  said 
with  affected  seriousness,  but  found  it  impossible  to  down 
the  color  in  her  flaming  cheeks  nevertheless. 

"  Oh,  but  you  two  can  jolly  a  fellow."  He  became  seri- 
ous now  as  he  went  on :  "  But  it  isn't  fair.  There  is  no 
girl  back  in  Chicago;  there  is  no  girl  anywhere  for  me."- 
He  was  successful  in  his  affectation  of  self  pity,  and  her 
feelings  went  out  to  him  in  her  words  that  followed: 

"  Now  that  is  indeed,  too  bad,  for  him,  Mrs.  Reynolds, 
isn't  it?  Perhaps  he  is  telling  the  truth.  The  girls  in 
Chicago  do  not  always  understand  the  life  out  here,  and 
cannot  make  one  feel  very  much  encouraged."  She  won- 
dered at  her  own  words.  But  she  went  on  nevertheless. 
"Even  back  in  Indiana  they  do  not  understand  the  West. 
They  are  —  seem  to  be,  so  narrow,  they  feel  that  they 


74  THE  HOMESTEADER 

are  living  in  the  only  place  of  civilization  on  earth."  Her 
logical  statement  took  away  the  joke.  They  became  serious. 
The  store  was  filling  and  the  crowd  was  pushing.  So  they 
parted. 

A  few  minutes  later  as  Baptiste  passed  down  the  street, 
he  saw  Peter  Kaden  coming  from  the  commissioners'  office. 
Across  the  way  he  observed  Barr  and  Syfe  stop  and  ex- 
change a  few  words.  The  next  moment  they  went  their 
two  ways  while  he  stood  looking  after  them. 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  CHRISTINE,   CHRISTINE  !  " 

ONE  WEEK  from  the  day  Peter  Kaden  made  proof  at 
Gregory  on  the  homestead  he  held,  the  court  record 
showed  that  he  had  transferred  the  same  to  some 
unknown  person.  In  the  course  of  events  it  was  not  noticed 
by  the  masses.  It  was  because  Jean  Baptiste  was  expecting 
something  of  the  kind  that  he  happened  to  observe  the  record 
of  the  transfer  in  the  following  week's  issue  of  the  paper. 
He  couldn't  get  the  incident  out  of  his  mind,  and  he  found 
his  eyes  wandering  time  and  again  in  the  direction  of  the 
house  of  Augustus  M.  Barr  in  the  days  that  followed. 

From  what  he  had  gleaned  from  the  papers,  he  was  sure 
that  something  sinister  was  to  occur  in  that  new  land  soon. 
He  tried  in  vain  to  formulate  some  plan  of  action  —  rather, 
some  plan  of  prevention.  But  the  plot,  the  intrigue,  or 
whatever  it  may  be  called,  was  deep.  It  had  taken  root  be- 
fore either  had  ever  seen  the  country  they  now  called  home. 
And  because  of  its  intricate  nature,  he  could  formulate  no 
plan  toward  combatting  the  thing  he  felt  positively  in  his 
veins  was  to  take  place. 

Over  the  hill  two  miles  and  more  the  claim  shack  of  Peter 
Kaden  could  not  be  seen.  But  he  could  always  feel  where 
it  was  and  the  events  that  went  on  therein.  This  healthy, 
but  sad,  forlorn  German  had  aroused  his  sympathy,  and 
always  when  he  thought  of  him,  strangely  he  thought  of 
Christine. 

The  days  passed  slowly  and  things  went  on  as  usual. 

75 


76  THE  HOMESTEADER 

He  saw  Barr  occasionally  and  as  often  saw  the  dark  Syfe. 
He  read  as  was  his  wont,  and  then  one  evening  when  his 
few  chores  were  done,  he  had  a  desire  to  walk.  He  drew  on 
his  overcoat,  and,  taking  a  bucket,  he  walked  slowly  down 
the  slope  that  led  up  to  his  house,  to  the  well  a  quarter  mile 
distant.  He  could  never  after  account  for  the  strange  feel- 
ing that  came  and  went  as  he  ambled  toward  the  well  He 
reached  it  in  due  time,  filled  his  bucket,  and  was  in  the  act 
of  returning  when  out  of  the  night  he  caught  the  unmis- 
takable sound  of  horses'  hoofs.  Some  one  on  horseback 
was  coming.  He  set  the  bucket  down  and  bent  his  ears 
more  keenly  to  hear  the  sound. 

Yes,  they  were  hoof  beats,  an  unusual  clatter.  He  gave 
a  start.  Only  one  horse  in  the  neighborhood  made  such  a 
noise  with  the  hoofs  when  moving,  for  he  had  heard  the 
same  before,  and  that  horse  belonged  to  A.  M.  Barr,  and 
was  a  pacer.  Christine  had  use  to  ride  him.  And  when 
he  recalled  it,  he  became  curious.  Christine  was  not  there, 
he  knew,  unless  she  had  come  that  day,  which  was  not 
likely.  .  .  .  Then  who  rode  the  horse f  He  had  never  seen 
Barr  on  horseback.  .  .  .  They  were  coming  from  about 
where  Barr's  house  stood,  coming  in  his  direction  along  the 
road.  He  estimated  at  that  moment  they  must  be  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away.  He  listened  intently.  Onward 
they  came,  drawing  closer  all  the  while.  He  got  an  in- 
spiration. Why  should  he  be  seen?  He  moved  back  from 
the  road  some  distance.  There  was  no  moon  and  the  night 
was  dark,  but  the  stars  filled  the  night  air  with  a  dim  ray. 
He  lay  upon  the  ground  as  the  horseman  drew  nearer. 
Presently  out  of  the  shadow  he  caught  the  dim  outline  of  the 
rider.  He  saw  that  a  heavy  ulster  was  worn,  and  the  collar 
of  the  same  was  around  the  rider's  neck,  almost  concealing 
the  head ;  but  he  recognized  the  rider  as  A.  M.  Barr. 


"CHRISTINE,  CHRISTINE!"  77 

"  Now  where  can  he  be  going,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
standing  erect  as  he  listened  to  the  hoof  beats  on  the  road 
below.  He  pondered  briefly.  "  Why  does  he  never  ride 
in  the  daytime?"  From  down  the  road  the  sound  of  hoof 
beats  continued.  And  then  Baptiste  was  again  inspired. 

"  Kaden !  "  he  cried,  and  fell  into  deep  thought. 

At  his  left  was  a  small  creek,  usually  dry.  This  stream 
led  in  an  angling  direction  down  toward  the  larger  stream 
south  of  the  town.  It  led  directly  toward  the  claim  of 
Peter  Kaden,  although  the  homestead  lay  beyond  the  creek. 
By  following  it,  one  could  reach  Kaden's  house  in  about  two- 
thirds  the  distance  if  going  by  trail. 

A  few  minutes  later  Jean  Baptiste  was  speedily  following 
the  route  that  led  to  the  creek.  He  paused  at  intervals  and 
upon  listening  could  hear  the  hoof  beats  along  the  trail  in 
the  inevitable  direction.  He  reached  the  creek  in  a  short 
time,  found  his  way  across  it,  and  once  on  the  other  side,  he 
hurried  through  a  school  section  to  Kaden's  cabin  that  was 
joined  with  this  on  the  south.  He  crossed  the  school  sec- 
tion quickly,  and  in  the  night  air  he  could  smell,  and  pres- 
ently came  to  see,  the  smoke  curling  from  the  chimney. 
He  approached  the  house  cautiously.  He  was  glad  that  poor 
Kaden  didn't  keep  a  dog.  When  he  had  drawn  close 
enough  to  distinguish  the  objects  before  him,  he  saw  Barr's 
horse  tied  out  of  the  wind,  on  the  south  side  of  the  little 
barn.  He  looked  closer  and  observed  another  near.  He 
reckoned  that  one  to  be  Syfe's.  "  So  the  triangle  is  form- 
ing," he  muttered. 

He  went  up  to  the  house  noiselessly.  He  passed  around 
its  dark  side  to  where  he  saw  light  emanating  from  the  small 
window.  He  peered  cautiously  through  it.  Sitting  on  the 
side  of  the  bed,  Kaden's  face  met  his  gaze.  He  regarded  it 
briefly  before  seeking  out  the  others.  Never,  he  felt,  if  he 


;8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

lived  a  hundred  years  would  he  ever  forget  the  expression  of 
agony  that  face  wore!  Upon  its  usual  roundness,  percep- 
tible lines  had  formed;  in  the  light  of  the  dim  lamp  he 
caught  the  darkness  about  the  eyes,  the  skin  under  almost 
sagging  and  swollen.  He  permitted  his  gaze  to  drift 
further,  and  to  take  in  the  proportions  of  the  room. 

On  a  stool  near  sat  Syfe,  the  Jew.  He  wore  his  over- 
coat. Indeed,  Baptiste  could  not  recall  having  ever  seen 
him  without  it  about  him;  also  he  wore  his  thick,  dark 
cap.  His  little  mustache  stood  out  over  the  small  mouth, 
between  the  lips  of  which  reposed  the  usual  cigarette.  He 
was  drawing  away  easily  at  this,  while  his  ears  appeared  to 
be  attentive  to  what  was  going  on.  He  was  listening  to 
Barr,  who  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room,  talking  in  much 
excitement,  making  gestures;  while  he  could  see  the  agon- 
ized Kaden  protesting.  He  could  not  catch  all  that  was 
being  said,  but  some  of  it.  Barr,  in  particular,  he  observed, 
while  speaking  forcibly,  was  nevertheless  controlled.  It  was 
Kaden  whose  voice  reached  his  ears  more  often  on  the  out- 
side. 

"I  kept  you  from  Australia.  .  .  ."  this  from  Barr. 
[<  They  had  you  on  shipboard.  .  .  .  Your  carcass  would  be 
fit  for  the  vultures  now  on  that  sand  swept  desert  you  were 
headed  for.  .  .  ." 

"  But  I  was  innocent,  I  was  innocent,"  protested  Kaden. 
"  I  didn't  go  to  Russia  that  trip.  I  didn't  go  to  Russia,  and 
to  Jerusalem,  I  have  never  been ! " 

"  But  you  hadn't  proved  it.  You  were  done  for.  They 
had  you,  and  all  you  could  do  or  say  wouldn't  have  kept  you 
in  England.  It  was  I,  me,  do  you  understand.  .  .  .  You  do 
understand  that  I  kept  you  from  going.  I,  me,  who  saved 
you.  No  law  in  this  land  could  keep  you  here  if  they  knew 
now  where  you  were.  .  .  ." 


"  CHRISTINE,  CHRISTINE !  "  79 

"  But  you  forget  Christine,  my  poor  Christine !  You  have 
her,  is  that  not  enough  ?  Oh,  you  are  hard.  You  drive  me 
most  insane.  Tell  me  about  Christine.  Give  her  back  to 
me  and  all  is  yours." 

A  wind  rose  suddenly  out  of  the  west.  A  shed  stood 
near,  a  shed  covered  over  with  hay  and  some  poles  that  had 
been  cut  green,  and  the  now  dry  leaves  gave  forth  a  moan- 
ing sound.  He  saw  those  inside  start.  With  the  noise, 
Baptiste  knew  he  could  hear  no  more,  and  might  be  ap- 
prehended. Stealthily  he  departed. 

And  all  the  way  to  the  sod  house  that  night  he  kept 
repeating  what  he  had  heard.  "  Christine,  Christine  I  You 
have  her,  is  she  not  enough?  Give  her  back  and  all  is 
yours!" 

If  he  could  only  ascertain  what  was  between  Kaden  and 
Christine  —  but  it  was  all  coming  to  something  soon,  and 
he  knew  that  Augustus  M.  Barr  was  taking  the  advantage 
of  some  one;  that  Kaden  was  innocent  but  couldn't  prove 
it;  that  Syfe  was  in  some  way  darkly  connected,  and  the 
eternal  triangle  held  to  its  sinister  purpose. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  YOU  HAVE  NEVER  BEEN  THIS  WAY  BEFORE  " 

WHEN  AGNES  STEWART  found  her  father  and 
they  were  ready  to  return  home,  she  inquired: 
"Did  he  see  you?" 

"See  who?" 

"  You  ?  You  don't  understand.  I  mean  the  colored 
gentleman,  Mr.  Baptiste?" 

"  Why,  no,  my  dear,"  her  father  replied  wonderingly. 
"  I  saw  him,  but  I  had  no  word  with  him.  I  don't  under- 
stand." 

"  Why,  I  met  him.  Mrs.  Reynolds,  who  knows  you  — 
she  and  I  became  acquainted,  and  we  met  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  Mr.  Baptiste,  and  he  is  going  to  hire  a  man,  so  we 
discussed  Bill.  He  said  he  would  see  you."  Her  father 
drew  the  team  to  a  stop. 

"  I  don't  understand.  I  should  see  him,  and  I  did,  but 
he  was  talking  with  some  fellows  who  live  north  of  town. 
I  think  it  was  about  horses.  He  went  with  them,  so  I  sup« 
pose  we  may  as  well  go  on  home  and  see  him  later." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said  and  showed  it  in  her  face.  "  I 
had  hoped  he  would  get  to  see  you,  and  that  it  would  all  be 
settled  and  Bill  would  get  the  job." 

"  Don't  be  so  out  of  hope,"  said  he.  "I  have  no  doubt 
that  we  will  get  to  see  Mr.  Baptiste,  and  talk  it  over." 

"  I  am  worried,  because  —  you  know,  papa,  when  we 
have  paid  for  the  seed  and  feed,  we  will  have  very  little 
left." 

80 


"NEVER  THIS  WAY  BEFORE"      81 

"  Such  a  wonderful,  such  a  thoughtful  little  girl  I  have," 
he  said  admiringly,  stroking  her  hand  fondly  in  the  mean- 
time. "  I  can't  imagine  how  I  could  get  along  without  my 
Aggie." 

"  See  him  and  get  Bill  hired  and  I'll  not  worry  any  more." 

"  I'll  do  so,  I'll  do  so  tomorrow." 

"  You  say  you  saw  him  going  north  of  town  ?  " 

"Yes." 

She  was  silent,  while  he  was  thoughtful.  Presently  he 
inquired  of  what  passed  when  she  met  him. 

She  told  him. 

"  I  never  spoke  of  having  met  him  before." 

"You  didn't?" 

"  Why,  no,  papa.  How  could  I  ?  It  would  be  hard  to 
explain." 

"  Well,  now,  coming  to  think  of  it,  it  would,  wouldn't  it?  " 

"It  shouldn't"  she  said.     She  didn't  relish  the  situation. 

"Did  he?" 

"What?" 

"  Speak  of  it." 

"  Oh,  no !     He  didn't  .  .  ." 

"  I  wonder  has  he  ever." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  That  is  very  thoughtful  of  him." 

"  It  is.     He  is  a  real  gentleman." 

"  So  everybody  says." 

"  And  so  pleasant  to  listen  to." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Mrs.  Reynolds  is  carried  away  with  him.  Says  he's 
one  of  the  most  industrious  and  energetic  young  men  of  the 
country." 

"Isn't  that  fine!  But  it  seems  rather  odd,  doesn't  it? 
Him  out  here  alone." 


82  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  It  is  indeed  singular.  But  he  is  just  the  kind  of  man  a 
new  country  needs." 

"  If  the  country  had  a  few  hundred  more  like  him  we 
wouldn't  know  it  in  five  years." 

"  In  three  years !  "  she  said  admiringly. 

"  How  shall  we  explain  in  regards  to  Bill  ?  .  .  ." 

"  I've  explained." 

"You  have!" 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  come  out  and  say  it  in  words,  of  course.  I 
didn't  need  to." 

"  Then  how  ?     How  did  you  make  him  understand  ?  " 

"  It  was  easy.  It  was  easy  because  he  is  so  quick  witted. 
He  seems  to  readily  understand  anything." 

"I'll  bet!" 

"  He  spoke  of  the  fact  that  being  a  bachelor  it  was  awk- 
ward to  keep  hired  men,  and  this  fact  seemed  to  worry  him." 

"  But  why  didn't  you  explain  that  Bill  could  stay  home  ?  " 

"I  did." 

"Oh!" 

"  And  he  was  so  relieved." 

"  I'm  sure  he  was.     It  is  very  inconvenient." 

"  It  is.     And  I  feel  rather  sorry  for  him." 

•'  Needs  a  wife." 

She  was  silent. 

"  Wonder  why  he  doesn't  marry  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Will  make  some  girl  a  fine  husband." 

Silence. 

"  I  guess  he  has  a  girl,  though,  and  will  likely  marry 
soon." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"Why?" 

"Well,"  she  said  slowly.     She  blushed  unseen  and  went 


"  NEVER  THIS  WAY  BEFORE  "      83 

on :     "  Mrs.  Reynolds  joked  him  about  it,  and  he  denied  it." 

"  But  any  man  would  do  that.  They  like  to  be  modest ; 
to  appear  like  they  have  no  loves.  It  creates  sympathy. 
Men  are  sentimental,  too.  They  like  sympathy." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  she  said  slowly,  thoughtfully.  "  But 
I  don't  think  he  has  a  girl.  In  my  mind  he  is  a  poor  lone- 
some fellow.  Just  like  he  has  no  close  friends.  .  .  ." 

He  was  silent  now. 

"  I  have  thought  about  it  since  I  met  him." 

"You  have?" 

"  Why,  yes.     Certainly." 

Her  father  laughed. 

"Why  are  you  laughing?"  she  asked,  somewhat  nettled. 

"  I  was  thinking." 

"  Thinking ?     Thinking  of  what  ?  "  " 

"  Of  Jean  Baptiste." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  there  is  a  good  chance  for  you." 

"Father!" 

"Why  not!" 

"  Father !     How  can  you !  " 

He  laughed.  She  acted  as  if  angry.  He  looked  at  her 
mischievously.  She  did  not  grant  him  a  smile. 

"  Tut,  tut,  Aggie !     Can't  you  take  a  joke?  " 

"  But  you  should  not  joke  like  that." 

"  Oh,  come  now.     It  pleased  me  to  joke  like  that." 

"  Why  should  it  please  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  have  a  sense  of  humor." 

"A  sense  of  humor?" 

"  Yes." 

"  But  I  don't  see  the  joke?  " 

"  Why,  Aggie,"  he  turned  to  her  seriously.  "  Almost  I 
don't  think  it  is  a  joke." 


84  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Father!" 

"  Well,  dear?     You  seem  to  be  so  interested  in  the  man/' 

"  Father,  oh,  father !  "  and  the  next  instant  she  was  crying. 
He  reached  out  and  caught  her  fondly  to  him.  "My  girl, 
my  girl,  I  didn't  intend  to  upset  you.  Now  be  papa's  little 
darling  and  don't  cry  any  more !  " 

"  You  have  never  been  this  way  before,"  she  sobbed. 
He  caressed  her  more  now. 

"Well,  dearest.    You  see.    Well,  your  mother—" 

"  My  mother !  "  she  sat  quickly  up. 

"  We  are  going  to  raise  a  great  crop  this  year.  I  feel 
sure  of  it." 

"  But  my  mother !  " 

"  I  think  I  know  where  I  can  get  some  good  seed  oats." 

They  rode  along  in  silence  the  rest  of  the  way,  con- 
sumed with  their  own  thoughts.  No  words  passed,  but 
Agnes  was  thinking.  She  would  never  get  out  of  her  mind 
what  her  father  had  started  to  say.  But  he  had  stopped 
in  time.  .  .  .  Her  mind  went  back  to  the  strange  incidents 
in  her  life.  She  lived  over  again  the  day  she  had  looked 
in  the  mirror  and  had  seen  that  strange  look,  she  connected 
it  singularly  with  what  her  father  had  started  to  say.  She 
was  silent  thereafter,  but  her  soul  was  on  fire,. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHAT   JEAN    BAPTISTE    FOUND   IN    THE   WELL 

*  4"^T  IT  TELL,  my  friend,"  said  A.  M.  Barr,  stopping  be- 
^^7     fore  Baptiste's  hut  one  day  shortly  after  his  visit 
to  Kaden's,  "  I  have  my  date  and  will  make  proof 
on  the  22nd  of  March.     I  have  listed  you  as  one  of  my  wit- 
nesses.    Guess  I  may  depend  on  you  to  be  ready  that  day  ?  " 

"  I  shall  remember  it,  Mr.  Barr,"  answered  Baptiste. 
"  Have  you  rented  your  place  yet?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not.  Rather,  not  the  buildings.  My 
neighbor  across  the  road,  however,  will  put  the  thirty  acres 
I  have  broken  into  crop,  and  break  a  few  more." 

"  M-m." 

"  How  much  do  you  plan  seeding  this  season  ?  " 

"All  of  both  places  anyhow." 

"Ah,  young  man,  I  tell  you,  you  are  a  worker!  Such 
young  men  as  you  will  be  the  making  of  this  country. 
And  you'll  be  rich  in  time." 

"  Oh,  no,"  cried  Baptiste  disdainfully. 

"  If  I  were  young  and  strong  like  you,  I  would  be  doing 
the  same." 

"  You  expect  to  go  away  when  you  have  completed  your 
proof.  .  .  ." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  whereupon  A.  M.  Barr  cast  a 
furtive  glance  in  his  direction.  Baptiste  pretended  not  to 
see  it. 

"  What'll  you  do  with  your  horses  ?  "  Another  furtive 
glance. 

85 


86  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Well,  I  might  advertise  a  sale,"  he  said  boldly.  He  cast 
a  dark  look  in  Baptiste's  direction,  which  the  other  pre- 
tended not  to  see  —  but  did  see  nevertheless.  "  Why,  what 
could  he  know,"  was  in  Barr's  mind.  "  Nothing,"  he  an- 
swered his  own  question.  A  moment  later  he  was  the  same 
Barr;  the  officious  Englishman  when  he  drove  down  the 
road  a  few  minutes  later,  and  none  the  wiser  therefor. 

March  the  twenty-second  came  and  went,  and  Augustus 
offered  proof  on  his  homestead,  and  passed,  Baptiste  as- 
sisting him  as  witness. 

Sunday  was  the  next  day,  and  when  it  came,  all  calm 
and  beautiful,  Baptiste  realized  that  he  did  not  have  enough 
seed  wheat  to  sow  all  his  land  that  he  wished  put  in  wheat. 
A  squaw  man  had  raised  a 'large  crop  to  the  southwest  of 
him  the  year  before,  and  this,  he  understood,  was  for  sale. 
He  decided  to  call  on  the  squaw  man,  ascertain  the  fact, 
and  if  so,  purchase  a  share  of  it  for  his  purpose. 

Accordingly,  Sunday  morning  after  he  had  breakfasted, 
and  piled  the  dishes  bachelor  fashion  (unwashed)  he  started 
out. 

The  route  he  took  carried  him  directly  by  Peter  Kaden's 
claim,  and  when  he  had  gone  that  far,  and  found  himself 
looking  at  the  low,  sod  house  that  stood  a  few  paces  back 
from  the  road,  he  was  curious.  He  paused  unconsciously 
before  the  house  and  observed  it  idly  a  few  moments. 

He  was  struck  with  the  quietness  about,  and  at  once  be- 
came curiously  apprehensive.  No  smoke  emerged  from  the 
chimney.  There  was  no  evidence  that  any  one  was  about. 
Impelled  by  his  growing  curiosity,  he  approached  the  house 
and  knocked  at  the  door.  There  was  no  response  from 
within.  He  tried  it  again.  Still  no  response.  He  tried  the 
knob.  It  gave.  He  pushed  the  door  open  cautiously,  and 
peered  in.  The  house  was  empty  but  for  the  crude  fur- 


WHAT  JEAN  FOUND  IN  THE  WELL         87 

niture.  He  entered  curiously  and  looked  about.  The  bed 
was  spread  over,  there  was  no  fire  in  the  stove,  the  coldness 
of  the  atmosphere  within  impressed  him  with  a  theory  that 
no  fire  had  been  in  the.  stove  that  day  or  the  night  before. 
The  dishes  were  clean  and  piled  on  the  table  with  a  cloth 
spread  over  them.  He  went  outside,  closing  the  door  be- 
hind him  and  swept  the  surrounding  country  with  his  gaze 
which  revealed  no  Peter  Kaden.  He  lowered  his  eyes  in 
thought  as  his  lips  muttered: 

"  Wonder  where  he  is  ?" 

A  path  began  at  his  feet.  It  led  down  to  a  draw  some 
two  hundred  yards  away.  He  fell  into  it  aimlessly  and 
followed  its  course  for  a  short  way.  Presently,  upon  look- 
ing up,  he  saw  a  well  at  the  side  of  the  draw  which  obviously 
was  the  terminus  of  the  path. 

Forthwith  he  made  the  well  his  objective.  In  that  country 
wells  were  not  plentiful.  The  soil  was  of  the  richest  and 
blackest  loam  with  a  clay  subsoil;  but  water  except  where 
there  was  sand,  was  not  easily  found  only  in  or  near  a 
draw,  or  a  flat.  He  reached  the  well,  and,  drawing  aside 
the  bucket  that  reposed  on  the  lid,  he  opened  the  well  and 
lowered  the  bucket  to  the  water  some  thirty  feet  below. 

The  bright  sun  rays  somewhat  blinded  him  and  for  a 
moment  he  could  not  see  the  water  clearly.  The  bucket 
struck,  in  due  time,  however,  and  he  wondered  why  there 
was  no  splash.  He  jerked  it  over,  and  when  it  struck  again 
there  was  the  sound  of  water,  but  it  appeared  difficult  to 
sink  it.  He  peered  down  into  it  again  to  ascertain  what 
the  matter  was.  A  wave  of  ripples  caught  his  gaze,  while 
the  bucket  seemed  to  be  resting  on  something.  He  gave 
the  rope  another  jerk  and  twist,  and  it  came  down  bottom- 
side  up  on  the  dark  object. 

"  Hell,"  he  muttered,  "  this  well  is  dry !  "     He  took  an- 


88  THE  HOMESTEADER 

other  look.  "  No,  it  isn't  dry.  There  is  something  in  the 
well."  Bending  until  his  face  was  shaded  by  the  shadow 
of  the  well,  he  searched  below  very  closely  with  his  eyes. 
He  could  distinguish  that  there  was  something;  and  that 
the  something  seemed  to  bobble.  He  withdrew  the  bucket, 
unfilled,  and,  allowing  a  few  moments  for  the  ripples 
to  subside,  he  searched  the  darkness  below  again  closely. 
He  became  conscious  of  a  cold  feeling  stealing  up  his 
spine,  then  he  caught  and  held  his  breath  as  slowly  what 
was  below  took  outline.  It  was  not  a  dog,  a  coyote,  a  pig, 
or  an  animal  of  any  kind.  It  was  something  else  .  .  .  and 
the  something  else  had  features  that  were  familiar.  At 
last  realization  was  upon  him,  his  fingers  gripped  the  boards 
they  held  as  he  gradually  straightened  up. 

"  My  God !  "  he  cried  at  last,  terror  stricken. 

For  below  him,  with  white  face  turned  upward  as  if 
laughing,  was  the  dead  body  of  Peter  Kaden. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MISS  STEWART  RECEIVES  A   CALLER 

COINCIDENT  with  the  finding  of  Peter  Kaden's  body 
in  the  well,  certain  things  became  public  with  regard 
to  others.  But  to  complete  this  part  of  it.  After 
finding  the  body  Jean  Baptiste  hurried  into  Dallas  and  gave 
the  alarm.  Excitement  ran  high  for  a  time,  and  as  it  was 
Sunday,  in  a  few  hours  the  spot  around  the  well  was 
crowded.  From  over  all  the  reservation  the  people  came, 
and  the  consensus  of  opinion  was  that  it  was  suicide.  .  .  . 
Perhaps  Jean  Baptiste  was  the  only  one  who  had  his  doubts. 
If  it  was  suicide,  then  he  was  positive  it  was  a  precipitated 
suicide. 

Until  the  coroner  arrived  there  was  no  disposition  made 
of  the  remains,  and  when  he  did,  the  decision  of  suicide  was 
sustained. 

Since  the  man  Baptiste  had  started  to  see  was  brought 
to  the  spot  by  the  excitement,  the  business  in  hand  was 
settled  thereupon,  and  that  evening,  he  went  to  call  on  the 
Stewarts  with  a  view  to  hiring  Bill. 

He  found  Agnes  alone,  but  was  invited  to  enter.  From 
her  expression,  he  could  see  that  he  was  expected,  and  while 
he  waited  for  her  father  who  had  gone  across  the  road, 
they  fell  into  amiable  conversation. 

"  Springtime  is  knocking  at  our  door,"  he  ventured. 

"  And  I  am  glad  to  see  it,  and  suppose  you  are  also,"  she 
answered. 

89 


90  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Who  isn't !     It  has  been  a  very  severe  winter." 

"  I  think  so,  too.  Are  the  winters  here  as  a  rule  as  cold 
as  this  one  has  been  ?  "  How  modest  he  thought  she  was. 
She  was  dressed  neatly  in  a  satin  shirtwaist  and  tailored 
skirt;  while  from  beneath  the  skirts  her  small  feet  incased 
in  heavy  shoes  peeped  like  mice.  Her  neck  rose  out  of  her 
bodice  and  he  thought  her  throat  was  so  very  round  and 
white;  while  he  noticed  her  prominent  chin  more  today 
than  he  had  before.  He  liked  it.  Nature  had  been  his 
study,  and  he  didn't  like  a  retreating  chin.  It,  to  his  mind, 
was  an  indication  of  weak  will,  with  exceptions  perhaps 
here  and  there.  He  reposed  more  confidence  in  the  person, 
however,  when  the  chin  was  like  hers,  so  naturally  he  was 
interested.  As  she  sat  before  him  with  folded  hands,  he 
also  observed  her  heavy  hair,  done  into  braids  and  gathered 
about  her  head.  It  gave  her  an  unostentatious  expression ; 
while  her  eyes  were  as  he  had  found  them  before,  baffling. 

"  Why,  no,  they  are  not,"  he  said.  "  Of  course  I  have 
not  seen  many  —  in  fact  this  is  the  second ;  but  I  am  advised 
that,  as  a  rule,  the  winters  are  very  mild  for  this  latitude." 

"  I  see.  I  hope  they  will  always  be  so  if  we  continue  to 
live  here,"  and  she  laughed  pleasantly. 

"  How  do  you  like  it  in  our  country  ?  "  he  inquired  now, 
pleased  to  be  in  conversation  with  her. 

"  Why,  I  like  it  very  well,"  she  replied  amiably.  "  What 
I  have  seen  of  it,  I  think  I  would  as  soon  live  here  as  back 
in  Indiana." 

"  I  have  been  in  Indiana  myself." 

"You  have?"  She  was  cheered  with  the  fact.  He 
nodded. 

"  Yes,  all  over.  What  part  of  Indiana  do  you  come 
from?" 

"  Rensselaer,"   she   replied,    shifting   with   comfort,   and 


MISS  STEWART  RECEIVES  A  CALLER        91 

delighted  that  by  his  having  been  in  Indiana,  he  was  making 
their  conversation  easier. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  she  heard  him.  "  That  is  toward  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  state." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  in  obvious  delight. 

"  I  have  never  been  to  that  town,  but  I  have  been  all 
around  it." 

"  Well,  well !  "  She  was  at  a  loss  in  the  moment  how  to 
proceed  and  then  presently  she  said: 

"  You  have  traveled  considerably,  Mr.  Baptiste,  I  under- 
stand." 

He  felt  somewhat  flattered  to  know  that  she  had  dis- 
cussed him  with  others  apparently. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  have,"  he  replied  slowly. 

"  That  must  be  fine.     I  long  so  much  to  travel." 

"  You  have  not  traveled  far  ?  " 

"  No.  From  Indiana  to  Western  Kansas  where  we  were 
most  starved  out,  and  then  back  to  Indiana  and  out  here." 
He  laughed,  she  also  joined  in  and  they  felt  nearer  each 
other  by  it. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  it,  Mr.  Baptiste  ?  " 

"  Out  here,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  why,  yes,  of  course,"  she  added  hastily. 

"  Why,  I  like  it  fine.  I'm  thoroughly  in  love  with  the 
country." 

"  That's  nice.  And  you  own  such  nice  land,  I  don't 
wonder,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  replied,  modestly,  "I  think  I  should 
like  it  anyhow." 

"  Of  course ;  but  when  one  has  property  —  such  nice 
land  as  you  own,  they  have  everything  to  like  it  for." 

"  I'm  compelled  to  agree  with  you." 

"  I'm   sorry  we  don't  own  any,"   she   said  regretfully. 


92  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  But  of  course  in  a  way  we  are  not  entitled  to.  We 
didn't  get  in  '  on  the  ground  floor/  therefore  we  must  be 
satisfied  as  renters.'* 

He  was  silent  but  attentive. 

"  Papa  never  seems  to  have  been  very  fortunate.  It  may 
be  due  to  his  quaint  old  fashioned  manner,  but  he  has  never 
owned  any  land  at  all,  poor  fellow."  She  said  the  last 
more  to  herself  than  to  him.  He  was  interested  and  con- 
tinued to  listen. 

"  We  went  to  Western  Kansas  with  a  little  money  and 
very  good  stock,  and  were  dried  out  two  years  straight,  and 
the  third  year  when  we  had  a  good  crop  with  a  chance  to 
get  back  at  least  a  little  of  what  we  had  lost,  along  came  a 
big  hail  storm  and  pounded  everything  into  the  ground." 

"  Wasn't  that  too  bad !  "  he  cried  sympathetically. 

"  It  sure  was !  It  is  awfully  discouraging  to  work  as  hard 
and  to  have  sacrificed  as  much  as  we  had,  and  then  come 
out  as  we  did.  It  just  took  all  the  ambition  out  of  him." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder/'  he  commented  tenderly. 

"  And  then  we  went  back  to  Indiana  —  broke,  of  course, 
and  having  no  money  and  no  stock;  because  we  had  to 
sell  what  we  had  left  to  get  out  of  Western  Kansas.  So 
since  '  beggars  can't  be  choosers '  we  had  to  take  what  we 
could  get.  And  that  was  a  poor  farm  in  a  remote  part  of 
Indiana,  in  a  little  place  that  was  so  poor  that  the  corn 
was  all  nubbins.  They  called  it  '  Nubbin  Ridge.' " 

He  laughed,  and  she  had  to  also  when  she  thought  of  it. 

"  Well,  we  were  able  to  live  and  pay  a  little  on  some  more 
stock.  Because  my  brothers  didn't  take  much  to  run  around 
with  like  other  boys  but  stayed  home  and  worked,  we  finally 
succeeded  in  getting  just  a  little  something  together  again 
and  then  a  real  estate  man  came  along  and  told  us  about  this 
place,  so  here  we  are."  She  bestowed  a  smile  upon  him 


MISS  STEWART  RECEIVES  A  CALLER        93 

and  sighed.  She  had  told  more  of  themselves  than  she 
had  intended,  but  it  had  been  a  pleasant  diversion  at  that; 
moreover,  she  was  delighted  because  he  was  such  an  at- 
tentive listener. 

"  So  that  is  how  you  came  here?"  he  essayed.  "  I  have 
enjoyed  listening  to  you.  Your  lives  read  like  an  interesting 
book." 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  fair.  You  are  joking  with  me ! "  Not- 
withstanding, she  blushed  furiously. 

"  No,  no,  indeed,"  he  protested. 

She  believed  him.  Strangely  she  reposed  such  confidence 
in  the  man  that  she  felt  she  could  sit  and  talk  with  him 
forever. 

"  But  it  is  certainly  too  bad  that  you  have  been  so  un- 
fortunate. I  am  sure  it  will  not  always  be  so.  You  are 
perseverant,  I  see,  and  '  riches  come  to  him  who  waits/  " 

"  An  old  saying,  but  I  hope  it  will  not  wait  too  long. 
Papa  is  getting  old,  and  —  my  brothers  would  be  unable  to 
manage  with  any  effect  alone.  .  .  ."  He  understood  her 
and  the  incident  was  overlooked. 

"  Your  mother  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  mother  is  dead,  Mr.  Baptiste." 

"  Oh." 

"  Died  when  I  was  a  baby." 

"  Well,  well.  .  .  ." 

"  I  never  knew  her." 

"  Well,  I  do  say ! "  He  paused  briefly,  while  she  was 
silent  but  thinking  deeply.  .  .  .  Thinking  of  what  her  father 
had  started  to  say  and  never  finished. 

"  And  I  venture  to  say  that  you  have  just  about  raised 
yourself?" 

She  blushed. 

"  You  must  be  a  wonderful  girl." 


94  THE  HOMESTEADER 

She  blushed  again  and  twisted  her  hands  about.  She 
tried  to  protest;  but  couldn't  trust  herself  to  say  anything 
just  then.  How  she  liked  to  hear  him  talk! 

"  You  have  my  best  wishes,  believe  me,"  he  was  at  a  loss 
for  the  moment  as  to  how  to  proceed. 

"  Oh,  thank  you."  She  didn't  dare  raise  her  eyes.  He 
regarded  her  as  she  sat  before  him,  blushing  so  beautifully, 
and  wished  they  were  of  the  same  race.  .  .  .  Footsteps 
were  heard  at  that  moment,  and  both  sat  up  expectantly. 
Quickly,  then,  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  went  to  the  door  and 
opened  it  in  time  to  meet  her  father  who  was  about  to  enter. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  father !  I'm  glad  you've  come.  Mr.  Bap- 
tiste  is  here  to  see  you." 

"  Ah-ha,  Mr.  Baptiste,  I  am  honored,"  cried  Jack  Stewart, 
her  father,  and  he  marched  forward  with  outstretched  hand 
and  much  ado;  Scotch  propriety. 

"  Glad  to  know  you,  Judge,"  Baptiste  returned  warmly, 
grasping  the  proffered  hand. 

"  Be  seated,  be  seated  and  make  yourself  comfortable ; 
make  yourself  at  home,"  he  said,  pushing  forward  the  chair 
out  of  which  Baptiste  had  risen.  Agnes  was  smiling  pleas- 
antly. She  could  see  that  the  two  were  going  to  become 
friends,  for  both  were  so  frank  in  their  demeanor. 

"  Now,  Aggie,  you  must  prepare  supper  for  Mr.  Baptiste 
and  myself,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  her  arm. 

"Oh,   no,"   disdained   Baptiste.     "Don't  think   of   it!" 

"  Now,  now,  my  worthy  friend,"  admonished  Stewart, 
and  then  stopped.  "  Why  —  you  have  met  my  daughter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  have  met,"  they  spoke  in  the  same  breath,  ex- 
changing glances. 

"  Then,  while  you  fix  us  something  good  to  eat,  we  will 
discuss  our  business." 


MISS  STEWART  RECEIVES  A  CALLER        95 

They  found  no  difficulty  in  reaching  a  bargain  in  regard 
to  Bill,  the  bargain  being  that  Bill  was  to  board  home  and 
sleep  there  also ;  and  the  consideration  was  to  be  one  dollar 
per  day,  and  by  the  time  this  was  completed,  Agnes  called 
them  to  supper. 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  even  though  it  be  an  in- 
trusion," said  Baptiste  as  he  was  gently  urged  into  a  seat. 

"  Ah-ha,  and  I  see  you  have  a  sense  of  humor,"  where- 
upon Jack  Stewart's  eyes  glistened  humorously  behind  the 
old  style  glasses  he  wore.  Baptist  colored  unseen,  while 
Agnes  regarded  him  smilingly. 

"  We  haven't  much,  but  what  is  here  you  are  welcome  to," 
she  said. 

"  It's  a  feast,"  said  he. 

"  About  as  good  as  baching,  anyhow,"  joined  Stewart. 

"Hush!" 

"How  do  you  like  it?" 

"  Didn't  I  say  hush  ?  That  should  be  sufficient  1  "  Agnes 
took  a  seat  and  surveyed  the  table  carefully  to  see  that  all 
was  there.  Her  father  was  pious.  He  blessed  the  table, 
and  when  this  was  over,  fell  to  eating  with  his  knife. 

"  By  the  way,"  cried  Baptiste  near  the  end  of  the  meal. 
"  Did  you  hear  the  news  ?  " 

"  What  news,"  they  asked  in  chorus. 

"  The  man  dead  in  the  well." 

"  Is  that  so ! "  they  exclaimed,  shocked. 

He  then  told  them  in  detail  all  about  the  finding  of  the 
body,  and  the  opinion  that  it  was  a  suicide.  They  listened 
with  the  usual  awe  and  curiosity.  But  Jean  Baptiste  did  not 
voice  his  suspicions,  or  tell  them  anything  he  knew.  At  a 
later  hour  he  took  his  leave. 

And  neither  of  the  three  realized  then  that  the  self-same 


96  THE  HOMESTEADER 

tragedy  linked  strangely  an  after  event  in  their  lives.  But 
when  Jean  Baptiste  went  over  the  hill  to  his  sod  house  that 
stood  on  the  claim,  Jack  Stewart  went  outside  and  walked 
around  for  almost  an  hour.  He  was  thinking.  Thinking 
of  something  he  knew  and  had  never  told. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    COMING   OF   THE   RAILROAD 

IT  IS  NOT  likely  that  the  people  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Dallas  would  have  ever  known  any  more  than  they  did 
regarding  A.  M.  Barr,  had  it  not  been  for  two  accounts. 
When  proof  had  been  offered  by  him  on  his  homestead  and 
a  loan  sought,  to  keep  from  invalidating  the  title  to  his 
land,  he  was  compelled  to  admit  that  he  was  married; 
but,  fortunately  for  him,  it  was  not  necessary  to  state  when 
or  how  long  he  had  been  married,  and  this  he  obligingly 
did  not  state.  But  the  surprise  came  when  upon  admittance, 
he  then  confessed  to  the  promoters  that  he  had  married 
Christine.  ...  Of  course  everybody  was  positive  then 
that  he  had  been  married  to  Christine  when  he  came  to  the 
country,  and  that  he  was  married  to  her  at  the  time 
she  was  holding  the  claim.  Perjury  was  a  penitentiary 
offense.  He  had  sold  her  claim  on  pretense  that  she  must 
go  to  England.  Christine,  as  Baptiste  had  come  to  know 
by  the  papers  he  found,  had  not,  of  course,  gone  to  England ; 
but  merely  to  Lincoln,  Nebraska,  where  she  was  safe  to 
keep  silent  about  what  she  knew  in  regard  to  the  subtle 
transactions  of  Augustus  M.  Barr. 

The  incident  went  the  usual  route  of  gossip,  the  people 
wondering  how  such  a  beautiful  girl  as  Christine  could  be 
happy  as  the  wife  of  an  old,  broken  down  infidel  like  Barr. 
But  they  never  came  into  the  truth,  the  whole  truth;  they 
never  connected  Barr  with  the  dark  Assyrian  Jew,  Isaac 
Syf e ;  nor  were  they  aware  that  he  had  ever  known  the 
forlorn  Peter  Kaden.  Only  Jean  Baptiste  knew  this,  and 

97 


98  THE  HOMESTEADER 

that,  although  Barr  called  a  sale  and  immediately  left  the 
country,  there  was  something  still  to  be  completed.  But 
Jean  Baptiste  didn't  know  then  that  it  would  all  come  back 
to  him  in  such  an  unusual  manner.  However,  the  public 
learned  a  little  more  concerning  the  previous  activities  of 
this  august  contemporary  before  long.  It  came  in  the  form 
of  a  sensational  newspaper  feature  story.  And  was  in  brief 
to  wit : 

While  pastor  of  the  Baker  Street  church,  London,  Isaac 
M.  Barr,  and  not  Augustus,  mind  you,  although  there  was 
no  question  about  the  two  being  one  and  the  same  became 
very  much  in  the  confidence  of  his  flock.  Of  London's  great 
middle  class  they  were  and  possessed  ambition,  which  Barr 
apparently  appealed  to.  The  result  was  that  a  great  colony 
set  sail  for  a  land  of  promise,  the  land  being  Western  Can- 
ada. The  full  details  were  not  given ;  but  it  seems  that  Barr 
was  the  trustee  and  handled  the  money.  On  arrival,  Barr 
suddenly  disappeared  and  the  good  people  from  England 
never  saw  him  again,  which  perhaps  accounts  in  some 
measure  for  his  becoming  an  infidel.  .  .  .  Who  would  not 
under  such  circumstances? 

There  is  a  feature  regarding  a  new  country — that  is,  a 
country  that  lays  toward  the  western  portion  of  the  great 
central  valley,  that  is  always  questioned,  and  is  ever  a  source 
for  knockers.  But  we  should  explain  one  thing  that  might 
be  of  benefit  to  those  who  would  go  west  to  settle  and  de- 
velop with  hopes  of  success.  And  this  is  rainfall.  In  this 
country  of  our  story,  which  lay  near  the  line  where  central 
time  is  changed  to  mountain  time,  near  the  fifth  principal 
meridian  the  altitude  is  about  2000  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea,  and  the  rainfall  may  be  estimated  accordingly. 
Rainfall  is  governed  by  altitude  and  is  a  feature  beyond 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  RAILROAD  99 

discussion.  This  is  a  very  serious  matter,  and  could  multi- 
tudes of  people  going  west  to  take  homesteads,  or  settle,  be 
impressed  with  the  facts  and  know  then  what  to  expect, 
much  grief  could  be  avoided. 

But  unfortunately  this  is  not  so.  Masses  can  be  con- 
vinced—  were  convinced  in  the  country  of  our  story,  and 
all  the  west  beyond,  in  other  parts,  that  rainfall  was  gov- 
erned by  cultivation.  An  erroneous  idea!  As  has  been 
stated,  rainfall  is  governed  by  elevation:  air  pressures  are 
such  that  when  in  contact  with  the  heavy  air  due  to  the 
lower  elevation,  thunder  showers  and  general  rains  fall  more 
frequently  on  the  whole  and  this  can  be  certified  by  the 
record  of  any  weather  bureau,  comparing  the  elevation  to 
the  amount  of  precipitation  over  a  given  period,  say  five  or 
ten  years.  It  is  a  fact,  however,  that  in  the  most  arid  dis- 
tricts cloudbursts  do  occur,  but  they  are  always  a  detriment 
to  the  parts  over  which  they  may  fall.  And  it  is  also  true 
that  in  a  given  year  or  season,  more  rain  may  fall  over  a 
certain  arid  district  than  some  well  cultivated  portion  in  a 
country  where  the  fall  of  rain  is  beyond  question. 

Because  of  these  contending  features,  many  portions  of 
the  country  have  received  a  boom  one  season  and  failed  to 
produce  the  next.  When  one  year  had  proven  exceedingly 
wet,  the  theory  was  that  the  whole  climatic  origin  of 
the  country  had  changed ;  drought  had  passed  forever,  and 
people  and  capital  flowed  in  to  sometimes  go  out,  broken  and 
shattered  in  spirits,  hopes  and  finances  later.  Such  in- 
stances hurt  and  hinder  a  country  instead  of  helping  it.  If, 
in  coming  to  the  country  of  our  story  the  masses  of  people 
could  have  understood  that  at  an  elevation  of  from  two 
thousand  to  twenty-two  hundred  feet,  the  rainfall  over  a 
period  of  ten  years  would  approximate  an  average  of 
twenty-five  inches  annually,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 


ioo  THE  HOMESTEADER 

they  would  expect  dry  years  and  wet  years ;  some  cold  win- 
ters and  some  fair,  open  winters;  some  cloudbursts  and 
some  protracted  droughts.  But  when  the  first  years  of  set- 
tlement were  accompanied  by  heavy  rains,  the  boom  that 
followed  is  almost  beyond  our  pen  to  detail. 

From  over  all  the  country  people  came  hither ;  people  with 
means,  for  it  was  the  land  of  opportunity.  The  man  who 
was  in  many  cases  wealthy  in  older  portions  of  the  country, 
had  come  there  with  next  to  and  very  often  with  nothing  and 
had  grown  rich  —  not  by  any  particular  ability  or  concen- 
trated effort  on  the  part  of  himself ;  not  by  the  making  and 
saving,  investing  and  profiting,  but  because  in  the  early  days 
the  land  was  of  such  little  value  and  brought  so  little  when 
offered  for  sale  that  it  had  been  a  case  of  staying  thereon ; 
result,  riches  came  in  the  advance  later  in  the  price  accord- 
ing to  demand. 

Such  was  not  the  circumstances  altogether  in  the  land 
where  Jean  Baptiste  had  cast  his  lot  in  the  hope  for  ultimate 
success.  While  opportunity  was  ripe,  a  few  thousands  had 
been  expedient.  For  what  could  be  had  for  a  small  amount 
here  would  have  cost  a  far  greater  amount  back  east.  But 
while  land  was  selling  and  selling  readily  the  country  would 
and  could  not  maintain  its  possible  quota  of  development 
without  railroad  facilities.  This  question,  therefore,  was 
of  the  most  urgent  anxiety.  When  would  the  railroad  be 
extended  out  of  Bonesteel  westward?  At  Bonesteel  they 
said  never.  Others,  somewhat  more  liberal  said  it  might  be 
extended  in  twenty  years.  They  argued  that  since  it  had 
taken  that  many  years  after  Bonesteel  had  been  started  be- 
fore the  company  placed  their  tracks  there,  the  same  would 
in  all  probability  hold  with  regards  to  the  country  and  the 
towns  west.  So  be  it. 

The  promoters  of  the  town  of  Dallas  argued  that  it  would 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  RAILROAD         101 

not  be  extended  from  Bonesteel  at  all;  that  when  it  was 
extended,  it  would  come  up  the  valley  from  the  town  some 
miles  below  Bonesteel,  where  the  tracks  lifted  to  the  high- 
lands. Meaning,  of  course  that  Dallas  would  be  the  only 
town  in  the  newly  opened  portion  of  the  country  to  get  the 
railroad. 

Jean  Baptiste  and  Bill  had  seeded  all  the  land  that  was 
under  cultivation  on  Baptiste's  property,  and  were  well  under 
way  of  breaking  what  was  left  unbroken,  when  Baptiste 
was  offered  a  proposition  that  looked  good  to  him.  It  was 
200  acres  joining  his  place  near  Stewart's,  the  property  of 
an  Indian,  the  allotee  having  recently  expired.  Under  a 
ruling  of  the  Department  of  the  Interior,  an  Indian  cannot 
dispose  of  an  allotment  under  twenty-five  years  from  the 
time  he  is  alloted.  This  ruling  is  dissatisfactory  to  the  In- 
dian ;  for,  notwithstanding  all  the  roles  in  which  he  is  char- 
acterized in  the  movies  and  dramas  as  the  great  primitive 
hero,  brave  and  courageous,  the  people  of  the  West  who  are 
surrounded  with  red  men,  and  know  them,  know  that  they 
wish  to  sell  anything  they  might  happen  to  possess  as  soon 
as  selling  is  possible.  Therefore,  when  one  happens  to  ex- 
pire, leaving  his  land  to  his  heirs  who  can  thereupon  sell, 
dispose,  give  away  or  do  what  they  may  wish  with  the  land, 
as  long  as  it  accords  with  the  dictates  of  the  Indian  agent, 
the  tract  of  land  in  question  can  be  expected  to  pass  into 
other  hands  forthwith. 

The  two  hundred  acres  offered  Jean  Baptiste  was  con- 
venient to  his  land,  and  was  offered  at  twenty  dollars  per 
acre.  Other  lands  about  had  sold  as  high  as  thirty  dollars 
the  acre.  A  thousand  dollars  down  and  a  thousand  dollars 
a  year  until  paid  was  the  bargain,  and  he  accepted  it,  paying 
over  the  thousand,  which  was  the  last  of  the  money  he  had 
brought  from  the  East  with  him. 


102  THE  HOMESTEADER 

This  was  before  something  happened  that  turned  the 
whole  country  into  an  orgy  of  excitement. 

A  few  days  after  this  one  of  the  long  rainy  periods  set 
in,  and  the  little  town  was  overrun  with  homesteaders, 
agreeing  that  the  land  that  was  broken  was  acting  to  their 
advantage:  bringing  all  the  good  rains,  and  drought  would 
never  be  again. 

Then  one  day  a  man  brought  the  news.  The  surveyors 
were  in  Bonesteel.  It  was  verified  by  others,  and  really 
turned  out  to  be  true.  The  surveyors  being  in  Bonesteel 
was  an  evident  fact  that  the  railroad  would  follow  the  high- 
lands and  would  not  come  up  the  valley,  and  that  settled 
Dallas  as  a  town.  It  was  doomed  before  a  stake  was  set, 
and  here  passes  out  of  our  story,  in  so  far  as  a  railway  in 
its  present  location  was  concerned.  But  whatever  route  a 
railroad  took,  it  meant  that  the  value  to  a  homestead  by  the 
extension  of  the  railroad  would  approximate  to  exceed  ten 
dollars  per  acre.  And  Jean  Baptiste  now  owned  five  hun- 
dred and  twenty  acres. 

*  Since  the  work  now  in  breaking  the  extra  two  hundred 
acres  was  before  him,  and  was  more  than  three  miles  from 
his  homestead,  he  sought  more  convenience,  by  determining 
to  approach  the  Stewarts  with  a  request  to  board  him. 

It  was  a  rainy  day,  when  he  called,  only  to  find  Jack 
Stewart  out,  while  George  and  Bill  were  tinkering  about  the 
barn.  They  had  not  been  informed  of  his  purchase. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you  —  Mr.  Baptiste,"  cried  Agnes  upon  open- 
ing the  door  in  response  to  his  knock.  "  Come  right  in." 

"  Where's  the  governor  ?  "  he  inquired  when  seated. 

"  Search  me,"  she  laughed.  "  Papa's  always  out,  rain  or 
shine." 

"  Busy  man." 

"  Yes.     Busy  but  never  gets  anything  by  it,  apparently." 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  RAILROAD 


103 


She  was  full  of  humor,  her  eyes  twinkled.  He  was  also. 
It  was  a  day  to  be  grateful.  Rainfall,  though  it  bring  delay 
in  the  work,  such  days  always  are  appreciated  in  a  new 
country.  It  made  those  there  feel  more  confident. 

"  Lots  of  rain." 

"  Yes.     I  suppose  you  are  glad,"  she  said  interestedly. 

"  Well,  I  should  be." 

"  We  are,  too.  It  looks  as  if,  should  this  keep  up,  we  will 
really  raise  a  crop." 

"  Oh,  it'll  keep  up,"  he  said  cheerfully,  confidently.  "  It 
always  rains  in  this  country." 

"  How  optimistic  you  are,"  she  said,  regarding  him  ad- 
miringly. 

"  Thanks." 

She  smiled  then  and  bit  her  lip. 

"  How's  your  neighbors  across  the  road  ?  I've  never  be- 
come acquainted  with  them." 

"  Their  name  is  Prescott.  I  don't  know  much  about  them ; 
but  papa  has  met  them." 

"  How  many  of  them?  " 

"  Three.     The  man  and  wife  and  a  son." 

"A  son?" 

"  M-m." 

"  How  old  is  he  —  a  young  man  ?  " 

"  M-m." 

He  smiled  mischievously. 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  great,"  and  she  laughed  amusedly. 

"  He  farms  with  his  parents  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.  He  has  rented  a  few  acres  on  the 
place  north  of  us.  Don't  seem  to  be  much  force." 

"  You  should  wake  him  up." 

"Humph!" 

"  My  congratulations,"  irrelevantly. 


104  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Please  don't.  He's  too  ugly,  too  lazy ;  loves  nothing  but 
a  stallion  he  owns,  and  is  very  uninteresting." 

"  Indeed !  "  Suddenly  he  jumped  up.  "  I  have  forgotten 
that  I  came  to  see  your  dad." 

"  I  can't  say  when  papa  will  be  home,"  she  answered, 
going  toward  the  door  and  looking  out. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  him  regarding  a  little  business  about 
boarding.  I  wonder  if  he  could  board  me?" 

"  He'll  be  home  about  noon,  anyhow." 

"That  won't  be  so  long,  now,"  said  he,  regarding  the 
clock. 

"  So  you  are  tired  of  baching,"  she  said  with  a  little 
twinkle  of  the  eyes. 

"  Oh,  baching?  Before  I  started/  But  that  is  not  what 
has  expedited  my  wishing  to  board.  I  bought  some  more 
land.  Couple  hundred  acres  of  that  dead  Indian  land  over 
south." 

"You  did!" 

"  Why,  yes."    He  did  not  understand  her  exclamation. 

"  Oh,  but  you  are  such  a  wonderful  man,  and  to  be  such 
a  young  man !  "  She  was  not  aware  of  the  intimacy  in  her 
reference,  and  spoke  thoughtfully,  as  if  to  herself  more  than 
to  him. 

He  was  flattered,  and  didn't  know  how  to  reply. 

"  You  are  certainly  deserving  of  the  high  esteem  in  which 
you  are  held  throughout  the  community,"  and  still  she  was 
as  if  speaking  to  herself,  and  thoughtful. 

He  could  not  shut  out  at  once  the  vanity  she  had  aroused 
in  him.  He  wished  to  appear  and  to  feel  modest  about  it, 
however.  After  all,  he  had  most  of  the  other  land  to  pay 
for,  which,  nevertheless,  gave  him  no  worry.  His  confi- 
dence was  supreme.  He  continued  silent  while  she  went 
on: 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  RAILROAD         105 

"  It  must  be  wonderful  to  be  a  young  man  and  to  be  so 
courageous ;  to  be  so  forceful  and  to  be  admired." 

"  Oh,  you  flatter  me." 

"  No ;  I  do  not  mean  to.  I  am  speaking  frankly  and 
what  I  feel.  I  admire  the  qualities  you  are  possessed  with. 
I  read  a  great  deal,  and  when  I  see  a  young  man  like  you 
going  ahead  so  in  the  world,  I  think  he  should  be  en- 
couraged." 

How  very  frankly,  and  considerately  she  had  said  it  all. 
His  vanity  was  gone.  He  saw  her  as  the  real  Agnes.  He 
saw  in  her,  moreover,  that  which  he  had  always  longed  for 
in  his  race.  How  much  he  would  have  given  to  have  heard 
those  words  uttered  by  a  girl  of  his  blood  on  his  trips  back 
East.  But,  of  course  the  West  was  foreign  to  them.  They 
could  not  have  understood  as  she  did.  But  the  kindness 
she  had  shown  had  its  effect.  He  could  at  least  admire  her 
openly  for  what  she  was.  He  spoke  now. 

"  I  think  you  are  very  kind,  Miss  Stewart.  I  can't  say 
when  any  one  has  spoken  so  sensibly  to  me  as  you  have,  and 
you  will  believe  me  when  I  say  that  such  shall  never  be  for- 
gotten." He  paused  briefly  before  going  on.  "  And  it  will 
always  be  my  earnest  wish  that  I  shall  prove  worthy  of  such 
kind  words."  He  stopped  then,  for  in  truth,  he  was  too 
overcome  with  emotion,  and  could  not  trust  himself  to  go 
on. 

She  stood  with  her  back  to  him,  and  could  he  have  seen 
her  eyes  he  would  also  have  observed  tears  of  emotion. 
They  were  honest  tears.  She  had  spoken  the  truth.  She 
admired  the  man  in  Jean  Baptiste,  and  she  had  not  thought 
of  his  color  in  speaking  her  conviction.  But  withal  she  felt 
strangely  that  her  life  was  linked  in  some  manner  with  this 
man's. 

Her  father's  appearance  at  this  moment  served  to  break 


106  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  silent  embarrassment  between  them,  the  embarrassment 
that  had  come  out  of  what  she  had  said. 

They  settled  with  regards  to  his  boarding  with  them,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  he  took  his  leave.  As  he  was  passing 
out,  their  eyes  met.  Never  had  they  appeared  so  deep; 
never  before  so  soft.  But  in  the  same  he  saw  again  that 
which  he  had  seen  before  and  as  yet  could  not  understand. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   ADMINISTRATING   ANGEL 

NEVER  before  since  Jean  Baptiste  had  come  West  and 
staked  his  lot  and  future  there,  doing  his  part  to- 
ward the  building  of  that  little  empire  out  there  in 
the  hollow  of  God's  hand,  had  he  worked  so  hard  as  he  did 
in  the  days  that  followed  that  summer.  When  the  rains  for 
a  time  ceased  and  the  warm,  porous  soil  had  dried  suffi- 
ciently to  permit  a  return  to  the  fields,  from  early  morn 
until  the  sun  had  disappeared  in  the  west  late  afternoons, 
did  he  labor.  Observation  with  him  seemed  to  be  inherent. 
Ever  since  he  had  played  as  a  boy  back  in  old  Illinois  he 
had  been  deeply  sensitive  with  regards  to  his  race.  To  him, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  realized  that  less  than  fifty 
years  had  passed  since  freedom,  they  appeared  —  even  con- 
sidering their  adverse  circumstances  —  to  progress  rather 
slowly.  He  had  not  as  yet  come  fully  to  appreciate  and 
understand  why  they  remained  always  so  poor;  always  the 
serf ;  always  in  the  position  to  gain  so  little  —  but  withal  to 
suffer  so  much!  Oh,  the  anguish  it  had  so  often  given 
him! 

His  being  in  the  West  had  come  of  an  ulterior  purpose. 
It  has  been  stated  that  he  was  a  keen  observer.  While  so 
he  had  cultivated  also  the  faculty  of  determination.  By  now 
it  had  became  a  sort  of  habit,  a  sort  of  second  nature  as  it 
were.  But  there  were  certain  things  he  could  not  seem  to 
get  away  from.  For  instance:  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
most  difficult  task  he  had  ever  encountered  was  to  convince 
the  average  colored  man  that  the  Negro  race  could  ever  be 
anything.  In  after  years  he  understood  more  fully  why  this 

107 


io8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

was  —  but  we  deal  with  the  present ;  those  days  when  Jean 
Baptiste  with  a  great  ambition  was  struggling  to  "  do  his 
bit"  in  the  development  of  the  country  of  our  story.  He 
struggled  with  these  problems  at  times  until  he  became 
fatigued ;  not  knowing  that  he  could  never  understand  until 
the  time  came  for  him  to. 

When  he  dined  late  one  afternoon  and  found  himself 
alone  with  Agnes,  he  spoke  of  being  tired. 

"  You  work  too  hard,  Jean,"  she  said,  kindly. 

"Perhaps  so,"  he  admitted.  "And,  still,  the  way  I 
choose  to  see  that  is,  that  I'll  not  know  the  difference  this 
time  next  year." 

"  That  is  quite  possible/'  she  agreed  thoughtfully.  "  But 
your  case  is  this,  I  think.  You  seem  inspired  by  some  high 
compulsion;  some  infinite  purpose  in  the  way  you  work, 
and  in  your  mind  this  is  so  uppermost  that  you  forget  the 
limit  of  your  physical  self."  She  paused  and  gazed  at  the 
knife  she  held.  Her  mind  appeared  to  deliberate,  and  he 
wondered  at  her  deep  logic.  What  a  really  mindful  person 
she  was,  and  still  but  a  girl. 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  you  and  your  effort  here,"  she 
resumed,  "  and  if  I  was  asked,  I  would  advise  you  to  ex- 
ercise more  discretion  in  regard  to  yourself.  To  labor  as 
you  do,  without  regard  to  rain,  sun,  or  time,  is  not  prac- 
tical. It  would  be  very  sad  if,  in  conducting  yourself  as 
you  do,  something  should  happen  to  you  before  you  had 
quite  fulfilled  that  to  which  you  are  aspiring  —  not  to  ac- 
complish altogether,  but  to  demonstrate." 

"  You  seem  to  have  such  a  complete  understanding  of 
everything,  Agnes,"  he  said.  "  You  appear  to  see  so  much 
deeper  than  the  people  I  have  met,  to  look  so  much  beneath 
the  surface  and  read  what  is  there.  I  cannot  always  un- 
derstand you."  He  paused  while  she  continued  in  that 


THE  ADMINISTRATING  ANGEL  109 

thoughtful  manner  as  if  she  had  not  heard  what  he  said. 
"  Now  in  your  remark  of  a  moment  ago,  you  so  defined 
a  certain  thing  I  would  like  to  tell  you.  .  .  .  But  I  shall  not 
now.  The  instance  is  always  so  much  in  my  mind  that 
indeed,  I  lose  sense  of  physical  endurance;  I  lose  sight  of 
everything  but  the  one  object.  It  is  not  that  I  care  so  much 
for  the  fruits  of  my  labor;  but  if  I  could  actually  succeed, 
it  would  mean  so  much  to  the  credit  of  a  multitude  of 
others. —  Others  who  need  the  example.  .  .  ."  He  paused 
and  thought  of  his  race.  The  individual  here  did  not  count 
so  much,  it  was  the  cause.  His  race  needed  examples ;  they 
needed  instances  of  successes  to  overcome  the  effect  of  igno- 
rance and  an  animal  viciousness  that  was  prevalent  among 
them. 

In  this  land,  for  instance,  which  had  been  advertised 
from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other;  this  land  where 
four  hundred  thousand  acres  of  virgin  soil  had  been  opened 
to  the  settler,  he  was  about  the  only  one  of  that  race  who 
had  come  hither,  or  paid  the  instance  any  attention.  Such 
examples  of  neglected  opportunity  stood  out  clearly,  and 
were  recorded ;  and  the  record  would  give  his  race,  claiming 
to  be  discriminated  against,  no  credit.  .  .  .  Such  examples 
of  obliviousness  to  what  was  around  them  would  be  hard  to 
explain  away.  So  in  his  ambitious  youth,  Jean  Baptiste's 
dream  was  to  own  one  thousand  acres  of  land.  He  was  now 
twenty- three  and  possessed  half  that  much.  He  conjectured 
that  he  could  reach  the  amount  by  the  time  he  was  thirty 
—  providing  nothing  serious  happened  to  retard  him.  .  .  . 

He  had  finished  his  meal  and  was  ready  to  go  back 
to  that  little  place  over  the  hill.  The  girl  who  had  made 
proof  on  the  homestead  he  had  purchased,  had  lived  four- 
teen months  alone  in  a  little  sod  house  her  father  had  built 
for  her  in  which  he  now  had  his  bed.  She  had  come  of  a 


no  THE  HOMESTEADER 

prosperous  family  in  the  East.  She  had  come  hither  and 
put  in  the  time,  and  the  requirements,  and  had  sold  the  land 
that  he  had  bought  at  a  good  profit  to  herself.  Such  in- 
stances were  common  in  that  country,  so  common  indeed, 
that  little  was  thought  of  it.  In  his  trips  back  East  when 
Baptiste  told  of  such  opportunities,  he  was  not  taken  seri- 
ously. The  fact  that  the  wealth  of  the  great  Central  Valley 
was  right  at  their  door ;  that  from  the  production  there  they 
purchased  the  food  they  ate;  that  sheep  were  raised  whose 
wool  was  later  manufactured  into  the  very  clothes  they 
wore,  had  no  meaning  to  them.  And  always  he  felt  dis- 
couraged when  he  returned  from  a  visit  among  them. 

He  had  never  seen  Agnes  so  serious  as  she  was  that  night. 
She  arose  and  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  stood  with  him 
a  moment  before  he  left.  Her  eyes  were  tired  and  she 
appeared  worried.  He  became  possessed  with  an  impulse  to 
shake  her  hand.  She  seemed  to  sense  his  desire,  and  as  he 
stepped  out  into  the  night,  she  extended  it.  He  grasped  and 
held  it  briefly.  He  whispered  goodnight  to  her,  and  as  he 
went  through  the  yard  and  out  into  the  road,  she  watched 
him  from  the  open  door  until  he  was  out  of  sight. 

Jean  Baptiste  thought  he  had  secured  a  bargain  in  a  team 
he  had  purchased  a  week  before,  and,  from  all  appearances  he 
had.  For,  after  working  them  a  week,  he  found  them  model 
horses  —  apparently.  As  stated,  he  slept  in  the  little  sod 
house  on  the  place  near  Stewart's,  and  also  had  a  barn  there 
in  which  he  kept  his  horses  while  working.  The  morning 
following  the  conversation  with  Agnes,  just  related,  he  went 
out  to  curry  and  feed  this  team  along  with  the  other  horses, 
and  received  a  kick  that  was  almost  his  ending.  Right  at 
the  temple  one  spiked  him,  and  he  knew  no  more  for  hours. 

"  I  wonder  why  Jean  is  so  late,"  said  Agnes,  going  to  the 


THE  ADMINISTRATING  ANGEL  m 

window  and  gazing  up  the  road.  He  was  a  hardy  eater  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  late  for  breakfast  was  unusual.  They 
waited  a  while  longer  and  then  ate  without  him.  Bill  who 
had  been  to  care  for  his  horses  at  the  place  before  break- 
fast, reported  that  he  had  seen  Baptiste  go  into  the  barn. 
So  he  had  arisen,  that  was  sure ;  but  why  had  he  not  come 
for  his  meal?  The  subject  was  dismissed  by  all  except 
Agnes,  who  was  strangely  uneasy. 

"  Bill,"  said  she,  "  see  what  is  the  matter  with  your  boss 
when  you  go  over,  and  tell  him  to  come  to  breakfast." 

Bill  had  no  difficulty  ascertaining,  and  returned  quickly 
with  the  news. 

"I  knew  it!"  exclaimed  Agnes,  excitedly.  "I  just  felt 
that  something  was  the  matter,"  whereupon  she  got  into 
a  light  coat  and  followed  her  father  and  brothers  to  where 
he  lay  outside  the  barn  door,  bleeding  freely  from  the 
temple. 

They  carried  him  into  their  house,  and  were  cheered  to 
see  that  the  blood  had  ceased  to  flow.  His  head  was 
bandaged  while  Bill  went  for  Doc.  Slater,  who  pronounced 
the  wound  serious  but  not  fatal.  He  awakened  later  in 
the  day  and  called  for  water.  It  was  brought  him  forth- 
with by  Agnes. 

When  he  had  drunk  deeply  and  lay  back  weakly  upon 
the  pillow,  he  heard: 

"  How  do  you  feel,  Jean  ? "  He  looked  around  in  the 
semi-darkness  of  the  room,  and  upon  seeing  her,  sighed 
before  answering.  When  he  did  it  was  a  groan.  She  came 
quickly  to  where  he  lay  and  bent  over  him. 

"  Jean,"  she  repeated  softly,  tenderly.  "  How  do  you 
feel  ?  Does  your  head  pain  you  much  ?  " 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  he  said,  turning  his  face  toward  her. 
She  put  her  hand  lightly  over  his  bandaged  head. 


112  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"You're  here,  Jean.  At  Stewart's.  You  are  hurt,  do 
you  understand  ?  " 

"Hurt?"  he  repeated  abstractedly. 

"Yes,  hurt,  Jean.  You  were  kicked  on  the  temple  by 
one  of  your  horses." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  and  he  suddenly  sat  up  in  the  bed. 

"  Careful,  careful,"  she  cried,  excitedly,  pushing  him 
gently  back  upon  the  pillow.  He  was  silent  as  if  in  deep 
thought,  while  she  waited  eagerly.  Presently  she  said  in 
a  low  voice: 

"Do  you  feel  hurt  badly,  Jean?" 

"  I  don't  know."  He  raised  his  hand  to  his  head  as  if 
trying  to  think  more  clearly.  She  caught  his  hands  and 
held  them  as  if  trying  to  estimate  his  pulse,  to  see  if  he 
had  any  fever. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  get  kicked,  Jean  ?  "  she  asked, 
speaking  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"  I  don't  know.  When  I  opened  the  barn  door  I  had  a 
vision  of  one  of  the  horses  moving  and  I  knew  no  more." 

"  You  must  be  very  careful  and  not  start  the  bleeding 
again,"  she  advised.  "  You  bled  considerably." 

"  And  you  say  I  am  at  your  house.     At  where  I  board  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Jean." 

He  turned  and  stared  at  her,  and  for  the  first  time  seemed 
to  be  himself.  He  closed  his  eyes  a  moment  as  if  to  shut  out 
something  he  did  not  wish  to  see. 

"  And  you  have  me  here  and  are  caring  for  me  ?  " 

"  We  brought  you  here  and  are  caring  for  you,  Jean," 
she  repeated. 

"  It  is  singular,"  said  he. 

"What  is  singular?" 

"  That  you  have  twice  happened  to  be  where  you  can 


THE  ADMINISTRATING  ANGEL  113 

serve  me  when  I  am  injured  or  in  danger."  She  was 
silent.  She  didn't  know  how  to  answer,  or  that  there  was 
to  be  any  answer. 

"  Has  a  doctor  been  here  ?  " 

"  Yes/' 

"  What  did  he  seem  to  think  of  it?  " 

"  He  said  your  wound  was  serious,  but  not  fatal." 

"  Did  he  say  I  could  get  up  soon  ?  " 

"  He  didn't  say,  Jean ;  but  I  don't  think  it  would  be  wise." 

He  groaned. 

"  Now  you  must  be  patient  and  not  fret  yourself  into  a 
fever,'*  she  said  seriously. 

"  But  I  have  so  much  work  to  do." 

"  That  will  have  to  wait.  Your  health  is  first,"  she  said 
firmly. 

"  But  the  work  should  be  done,"  he  insisted. 

"  But  you  must  consider  your  health  before  you  can  even 
think  about  the  work." 

He  groaned  again.  She  was  thoughtful.  She  was  con- 
siderate, and  she  could  see  that  he  would  worry  about  his 
work  and  injure  himself  or  risk  fever. 

"  I'll  speak  to  papa,  and  perhaps  George  can  take  your 
place  for  a  few  days,  a  week  or  until  you  can  get  out." 

"  You  are  so  kind,  Agnes,"  he  said  then.  "  You  are  al- 
ways so  thoughtful.  I  don't  know  how  I  can  accept  all  you 
do  for  me." 

"  Please  hush — don't  mention  it."  She  arose  and  pres- 
ently returned  with  her  father. 

"  Ah-ha,"  he  always  greeted.  "  So  you've  come  to. 
Thought  something  would  show  up  in  that  '  bargain/  " 

"  Please  don't,  father,"  admonished  Agnes,  f rowningly. 

"  I'll  look  after  everything  while  you  are  down,  old  man/' 


THE  HOMESTEADER 

said  Stewart.  "I'll  start  the  horses  you've  been  working 
this  afternoon.  Aggie  has  explained  everything.  I  un- 
derstand." 

"  I'm  so  thankful,"  he  said,  then  closing  his  eyes,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  had  fallen  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XV 
OH,  MY  JEAN! 

WHEN  JACK  STEWART  left  Indiana,  and  left 
owing  the  two  hundred  dollars  which  was  secured 
by  a  chattel  mortgage  on  his  horses,  he  failed  to  do 
something  he  now  had  cause  to  regret.  The  man  to  whom 
he  owed  this  money  agreed  to  give  him  one  year  in  which 
to  pay  it,  but  didn't  renew  the  mortgage.  He  was  a  close 
friend  of  Jack's,  and  there  had  been  no  worry.  But  the 
man  died;  his  affairs  fell  into  the  hands  of  an  adminis- 
trator, whose  duties  were  to  clean  up,  to  realize  on  all  due 
and  past  due  matter.  And  because  the  note  of  Jack  Stew- 
art's was  due  and  past  due,  the  extension  being  simply  a 
verbal  one,  the  administrator  wrote  Jack  demanding  that  he 
take  up  his  note  at  once. 

We  know  the  circumstances  of  Jack  Stewart;  that  be- 
cause Jean  Baptiste  had  hired  his  son  Bill,  and  now  was 
boarding  with  them,  he  was  able  to  get  along;  but  Jack 
Stewart  had  nothing  with  which  to  pay  $200  notes.  .  .  . 
So  while  Jean  Baptiste  was  recovering  from  his  illness,  Jack 
Stewart  had  cause  to  be  very  much  worried 

Possessed,  however,  with  a  confidence,  Jack  took  the 
matter  up  with  the  banker  in  the  town  where  he  received 
his  mail.  Now  a  common  saying  in  a  new  country  is: 
"  I'm  going  to  borrow  five  dollars  and  start  a  bank.  .  .  ." 
Inferring  that  while  there  is,  as  a  whole,  an  abundance  of 
banks  in  a  new  country,  they  do  not  always  have  the  where- 

115 


Ii6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

withal  to  loan.  What  they  have  is  usually  retained  for  the 
accommodation  of  their  regular  patrons,  and  they  were  un- 
able to  accommodate  Jack,  even  had  they  wished  to  do  so. 

Now,  he  could  have  secured  the  money  had  he  been  a 
claimholder  or  a  land  owner.  But  Jack,  being  neither, 
found  himself  in  a  bad  plight.  He  had  Aggie  write  a 
long  letter  in  which  he  tried  to  explain  matters,  and  re- 
quested until  fall  to  pay,  as  had  been  verbally  agreed  upon. 
But  the  class  of  people  in  the  old  East  who  regard  the  new 
West  as  a  land  of  impossibilities,  where  drought  burns  all 
planted  crops  to  crisp,  where  grasshoppers  eat  what  is  left, 
who  still  regard  those  who  would  stake  their  fortunes  and 
chances  in  the  West  as  fools,  were  not  all  dead. 

The  administrator  happened  to  be  one  of  this  kind.  He 
had  no  confidence  in  the  country  Jack  wrote  about,  the 
crops  he  had  planted;  what  he  expected  to  reap,  and  no 
patience  withal  into  the  bargain.  So  he  wrote  Jack  a  brief 
letter,  and  also  one  to  the  bank  in  the  town,  sending  the 
papers  with  it  at  the  same  time,  with  instructions  to  fore- 
close at  a  given  time.  And  when  Jack  knew  more  of  it,  he 
was  confronted  with  paying  the  note  in  thirty  days  or  having 
his  horse  taken,  and  sold  at  auction. 

Jean  Baptiste  recovered,  went  back  to  his  work,  and 
noticed  that  Jack  Stewart  and  Agnes  were  much  worried; 
but,  of  course,  didn't  understand  the  cause  of  it. 

"  Have  you  tried  elsewhere,  father  ?  "  said  Agnes  when 
they  had  gotten  the  notice  giving  them  thirty  days'  grace. 

"  But  I  am  not  known,  dear.  There  is  not  much  money 
in  a  new  country,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  get  credit  where 
there  is  nothing  to  lend." 

"  There  must  be  some  way  to  avoid  this.  Oh,  that  man, 
why  couldn't  he  be  reasonable  !  " 

"  It  is  always  bad  when  one  has  to  write.     If  I  were 


OH,  MY  JEAN!  117 

back  in  Indiana  I  could  go  and  see  this  man  and  reason 
it  out,  but  when  a  thousand  miles  is  between  us  —  it's 
bad !  " 

"If  we  could  have  only  just  three  months." 

"  Two  months,"  he  exclaimed. 

The  days  that  followed  were  days  of  grave  anxiety,  of 
nervous  anticipation  for  them.  There  was  but  one  person 
they  could  turn  to  at  such  a  time,  and  that  was  Jean  Bap- 
tiste.  Agnes  thought  of  him,  she  started  to  speak  with  her 
father  regarding  him,  but  in  the  end  did  not  bring  herself 
to  do  so. 

So  the  time  went  on,  and  the  thirty  days  became  twenty ; 
and  the  twenty  fell  to  ten ;  and  the  ten  fell  to  five,  and  then 
Jean  Baptiste  could  bear  their  worry  no  longer  without 
speaking. 

"  You  and  your  father  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  Agnes, 
and  I  can  see  you  are  greatly  worried  about  something.  If 
I  could  help  you  in  any  way,  I  would  be  glad  to  do  so." 

She  was  so  near  to  crying  when  she  heard  this  that  she 
had  much  difficulty  keeping  back  the  tears.  But  she  man- 
aged to  say: 

"  Why,  it's  nothing  serious.  Just  a  little  matter,  that's 
all,"  and  she  went  into  her  room.  He  pondered.  It  was 
more  than  that.  Of  this  he  was  sure.  He  left  the  house 
and  came  around  to  where  Jack  sat,  and  was  moved  by  his 
expression.  But  Jack  would  say  nothing.  He  could  not 
understand.  He  tried  to  dismiss  the  subject  from  his  mind, 
and  so  came  Sunday,  the  day  of  days. 

He  was  walking  from  his  meal  to  his  place  to  look  over 
his  crops,  when  from  up  the  road  he  caught  the  sound  of 
buggy-wheels.  Two  men,  driving  a  single  horse  hitched  to 
a  light  buggy  were  coming  his  way.  When  they  caught 
sight  of  him,  they  hurried  the  animal  forward  slightly  by 


n8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

touching  him  up  with  the  whip,  and  beckoned  to  him  to  stop. 
Presently  they  drew  up  to  where  he  stood  and  he  recognized 
one  as  a  homesteader,  and  having  a  claim  near  and  the  other 
as  a  professional  dealer  in  horses.  They  exchanged  greet- 
ings and  some  remarks  about  the  weather  and  crops,  and 
then  the  trader  said : 

"  By  the  way,  Jean,  where  does  that  old  Scotchman  live 
:  out  this  way  ?  The  old  fellow  who  moved  out  here  recently 
from  Indiana?" 

"  That's  the  place  there,"  and  Baptiste  pointed  to  the 
top  of  the  house  that  could  just  be  seen  from  where  they 
stood. 

"I  see,"  said  the  other  thoughtfully.  "Wonder  where 
that  dappled  gray  mare  he  owns  is  grazing.  I'd  like  to  take 
a  look  at  'er." 

"  I  think  you  will  see  her  grazing  in  the  pasture,"  said 
Baptiste  curiously. 

"  How  —  what  kind  of  animal  is  it?  " 

"  Why,  she's  a  hum-dinger,"  returned  Baptiste  more  curi- 
ously. His  curiosity  aroused  the  other,  who,  looking  at 
him  said: 

"  Well,  you  see  the  old  man  is  to  be  sold  out  —  foreclosed, 
and  I  thought  I'd  take  a  look  at  his  stuff  and  if  I  thought 
there  was  anything  in  it,  I  might  save  the  old  scout  the 
humiliation  by  buying  it." 

"  T'  hell  you  say !  "  exclaimed  Baptiste. 

"  Oh,  yes.     Hadn't  you  heard  about  it?  " 

"  This  is  my  first  knowledge  of  it." 

"Yes,  the  sheriff's  coming  to  get  the  stuff  Tuesday  — 
that  is,  providing  the  old  man  don't  come  across  with  a 
couple  of  hundred  before  that  time,  and  it  is  not  likely  he 
can,  I  don't  think." 

"  Well,  well !  "  Baptiste  exclaimed,  thinking  of  the  worry 


OH,  MY  JEAN!  119 

he  had  observed  in  the  faces  of  Agnes  and  her  father,  and 
at  last  beginning  to  understand. 

"  Yes,  it's  rather  bad,  that.  But  this  follows  the  old  gent 
from  where  he  comes,  and  he  is  not  known  here,  so  I  guess 
I'll  mosey  along  and  take  a  look  at  the  stuff  —  just  a  glance 
at  it  from  the  road,  you  understand.  And  if  things  look 
good,  I'll  drop  by  'n  see  him  later."  Whereupon  they  went 
their  way  cheerfully,  while  Baptiste  resumed  his,  thought- 
fully. 

He  returned  to  his  house  by  a  roundabout  way,  and,  later, 
hitching  a  team  to  a  light  buggy,  he  drove  into  the  town 
where  Jack  traded  and  looked  up  the  banker. 

"  Say,  Brookings,"  he  opened,  "  what  kind  of  deal  is  the 
old  Scotchman  up  against  out  there?  You  understand." 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  exclaimed  the  cashier.  "  The  old  man  out 
there  on  the  Watson  homestead!  Well,  it  seems  like  the 
old  fellow  stands  a  good  chance  of  being  sold  out."  He 
then  explained  to  Baptiste  regarding  the  note  and  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

"  That  don't  look  just  right  to  me,"  muttered  Baptiste 
when  he  had  heard  the  circumstances. 

"  Well,  now,  it  isn't  right.     But  what  can  be  done  ?  " 

"  Can't  you  loan  the  old  man  the  money  ?  " 

"  I  could ;  but  I  don't  like  letting  credit  to  strangers  and 
renters.  If  he  could  get  a  good  man  on  his  note  I'd  fix  it 
out  for  him,  since  we've  just  received  quite  a  sum  for  de- 
posit." 

"  Well,  if  I  should  go  it,"  said  Baptiste  suggestively. 
The  other  looked  quickly  up. 

"  Why,  you !  Gee,  I'd  take  care  of  him  for  ten  times  the 
amount  if  you'd  put  your  '  John  Henry  '  on  the  note." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  in  town  early  in  the  morning,"  said  Bap- 
tiste, turning  to  drive  away. 


120  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  All  right,  Jean.     Sure !     I'll  look  for  you." 

The  day  was  bright  and  lovely  for  driving,  and  Baptiste 
drove  to  his  homestead,  and  from  there  to  the  Reynolds' 
where  he  had  dinner  and  visited  late.  The  next  morning 
he  went  to  the  town,  and  when  Jack  Stewart,  exhausted  by 
the  strain  of  worry  under  which  he  was  laboring,  came  into 
town,  having  decided  to  try  and  sell  the  mare  and  one  of 
the  other  horses,  thereby  leaving  him  only  one  with  which 
to  complete  the  cultivating  of  his  corn  and  the  reaping  of 
his  crops,  he  was  called  into  the  bank. 

"  Now  if  you'll  just  sign  this,  Mr.  Stewart,"  said  Brook- 
ings,  "  you  can  have  until  December  first  on  that  stuff." 

"  You  mean  the  note ! "  the  old  man  exclaimed,  afraid  to 
believe  that  he  had  heard  aright. 

"  Yes,  the  note  that  is  about  to  be  foreclosed.  You've 
been  granted  an  extension."  Jack  Stewart  was  too  over- 
come to  attempt  to  comment.  The  realization  that  he  was 
to  be  allowed  to  go  on  and  not  be  sold  out  or  be  forced  to 
dispose  of  his  little  stock  at  such  a  critical  time,  was  too 
much  for  words.  He  caught  up  the  pen,  steadied  his  nerves, 
and  wrote  his  name,  not  observing  that  the  banker  held  a 
blotter  over  the  lower  line  of  the  note.  Jean  Baptiste  had 
cautioned  him  to  do  this.  In  view  of  the  circumstances  he 
had  not  wished  Stewart  or  Agnes  to  know  that  he  had  gone 
en  the  note. 

Jack  Stewart  hurried  home  in  a  fever  of  excitement.  He 
could  not  get  there  fast  enough.  He  thought  of  Agnes,  he 
did  not  wish  her  to  have  a  minute  more  grief  than  what  she 
had  endured.  He  reached  home  and  stumbled  into  the 
house,  and  to  Agnes  he  said : 

"  Oh,  girl,  girl,  girl !  They  have  extended  the  note !  The 
sheriff  is  not  coming !  We  are  saved,  saved,  saved !  "  He 
was  too  overcome  with  emotion  and  joy  then  to  proceed. 


OH,  MY  JEAN!  121 

He  sank  into  a  chair,  while  Agnes,  carried  away  with  ex- 
citement over  the  news,  caressed  him;  said  words  of  love 
and  care  until  both  had  been  exhausted  by  their  own  emo- 
tions. When  they  at  last  became  calm,  she  turned  to  her 
father  who  now  walked  the  floor  in  great  joy. 

"  How  did  they  come  to  extend  the  note,  father  ? '' 

"  Why  —  why,  dear,  that  had  never  occurred  to  me !  I 
became  so  excited  when  they  told  me  that  I  had  been  granted 
an  extension,  I  can  only  recall  that  I  signed  the  note  and 
almost  ran  out  of  the  bank.  The  man  had  to  call  me  back 
to  give  me  my  old  note  and  mortgage.  I  don't  know  why 
they  granted  the  extension."  He  stood  holding  his  chin 
now  and  looking  down  at  the  floor  as  if  trying  to  understand 
after  all  how  it  happened.  Then  his  eyes  opened  suddenly 
wide.  "  Why,  and,  do  you  know,  now,  since  I  come  to 
think  of  it,  they  did  not  take  a  new  mortgage  on  the 
stock." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  the  administrator  had  anything  to 
do  with  it,"  she  said  after  a  time.  "  I  know  that  man.  He 
would  sell  his  mother  out  into  the  streets.  Now  I  wonder 
who  has  influenced  the  bank  into  giving  us  this  time.  .  .  ." 

"  Bless  me,  dear  lord.  But  right  now  I  am  too  tickled  to 
try  to  think  who.  To  be  saved  is  enough  all  at  once.  Later, 
I  shall  try  to  figure  out  who  has  been  my  benefactor."  And 
with  this  he  left  the  house  and  went  to  walk  with  his  joy 
in  the  fields  where  George  was  plowing  corn,  unconscious 
of  the  fact  that  the  team  he  was  driving  was  to  have  been 
seized  on  the  morrow  and  sold  for  debt. 

"  Now  I  wonder  who  saved  papa/'  Agnes  said  to  herself, 
taking  a  seat  by  the  window  and  gazing  abstractedly  out  into 
the  road.  She  employed  her  wits  to  estimate  what  had 
brought  it  about,  and  as  she  sat  there,  Jean  Baptiste  came 
driving  down  the  road.  He  had  not  been  there  since  break- 


122  THE  HOMESTEADER 

fast  the  morning  before.  He  had  taken  his  morning's  meal 
at  the  restaurant  in  the  town.  As  he  drove  down  the  slope 
that  began  above  the  house  wherein  she  sat,  his  dark  face 
was  lighted  with  a  peaceful  smile.  He  drove  leisurely 
along,  concerned  with  the  bright  prospects  of  his  four  hun- 
dred acres  of  crop.  He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  thoughts 
that  he  passed  on  by  without  seeing  Agnes  at  the  window ; 
without  even  looking  toward  the  house. 

Upon  seeing  him  Agnes  had  for  the  moment  forgotten 
what  she  was  thinking  about.  But  when  he  had  passed 
by,  she  was  suddenly  struck  with  an  inspiration.  She 
jumped  quickly  to  her  feet:  She  raised  her  hands  to  her 
breast  and  held  them  there  as  if  to  still  a  great  excitement, 
as  she  cried : 

"  Jean !  Jean,  Jean  Baptiste !  It  was  you,  you,  who  did 
it.  It  was  you  who  saved  my  father,  saved  me;  saved  us 
all!  Oh,  my  Jean!" 

She  was  overcome  then  with  a  great  emotion.  She  sank 
slowly  upon  a  chair.  And  as  she  did  so  sobs  broke  from  her 
lips  and  she  wept  long  and  silently. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

BILL   PRESCOTT   PROPOSES 

SUMMERTIME  over  the  prairie  country;  summertime 
when  the  rainfall  has  been  abundant,  is  a  time  of 
happiness  to  all  settlers  in  a  new  land.  And  such 
a  summer  it  was  in  the  land  of  our  story.  God  had  been 
unusually  kind  to  the  settlers;  he  had  blessed  them  with 
abundant  moisture;  with  sunshine,  not  too  warm  and  not 
too  cold.  The  railroad  was  under  course  of  construction 
and  would  be  completed  far  enough  west  for  the  settlers 
from  the  most  remote  part  —  from  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  reservation  to  journey  with  their  grain  or  hogs,  chickens 
or  cattle  to  it  and  return  to  home  the  same  day.  And  now 
the  fields  which  had  been  seeded  to  winter  wheat  had  turned 
to  gold.  Only  a  few  thousand  acres  had  been  sowed  over 
the  county,  and  of  this  amount  one  hundred  thirty  acres 
grew  on  the  homestead  of  Jean  Baptiste.  The  season  for 
its  growth  had  been  ideal,  and  the  prospects  for  a  bumper 
yield  was  the  best.  Ripe  now,  and  ready  to  cut,  the  air  was 
filled  with  its  aroma. 

He  had  brought  a  new  self-binder  from  Gregory  which 
now  stood  in  the  yard  ready  for  action,  its  various  colors 
green,  red,  blue  and  white,  resplendent  in  the  sunlight. 

So  now  we  see  Jean  Baptiste  the  cheerful,  Jean  Baptiste 
the  hopeful,  with  hopes  in  a  measure  about  realized;  Jean 
Baptiste  the  Ethiopian  in  a  country  where  he  alone  was 
black.  He  whistles  at  times,  he  sings,  he  is  merry,  cheery 
and  gay. 

123 


124 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


But  while  Jean  Baptiste  was  happy,  cheerful  and  gay, 
there  was  in  him  what  has  been,  what  always  will  be  that 
which  makes  us  appreciate  the  courage  that  is  in  some  men. 

Bill  Prescott,  from  the  first  day  he  had  seen  Agnes,  had 
considered  a  match  between  her  and  himself  a  suggestive 
proposition.  Bill  Prescott  might  be  referred  to  as  a  "  fea- 
ture." He  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  have  been  born  hand- 
some, and  could  not  be  called  attractive.  He  had  not,  more- 
over, improved  the  situation  by  cultivation  of  wit,  of  art  or 
pride.  The  West  had  meant  no  more  to  him  than  had  the 
East,  the  South  —  or  the  West  Indies,  for  that  matter. 
Because  Bill  had  no  homestead,  no  deeded  land,  and  had  not 
tried  to  get  any.  His  wealth  consisted  of  a  few  horses, 
among  which,  an  old,  worn  out,  bought-on-credit-stallion, 
was  his  pride. 

Of  this  stallion  Bill  talked.  He  told  of  his  pedigree, 
tracing  him  back  almost  to  the  Ark.  He  was  fond  of  to- 
bacco, was  Bill  Prescott;  he  chewed,  apparently,  all  the 
time.  He  had  lost  his  front  teeth;  wore  his  thin  hair 
long,  and  upon  his  small  head  a  hat,  oiled  to  the  point  where 
its  age  was  a  matter  for  conjecture.  He  had  apparently 
appreciated  that  the  wind  blew  outrageously  over  those 
parts  at  times,  and,  therefore,  had  hung  a  leather  string  to 
his  hat  which  he  pulled  down  over  the  back  of  his  head 
to  hold  his  hat  in  place.  This  succeeded  in  f  rumpling  the 
long,  thin  hair  and  kept  it  in  a  dishevelled  condition. 

Now  Bill  had  been  a  frequent  caller  at  the  Stewarts'  home 
since  they  had  come  West.  He  did  not  always  take  the 
trouble  to  remove  his  hat  when  inside.  That  he  was  fond 
of  Agnes  was  apparent,  and  smiled  always  upon  seeing  her, 
and  at  such  times  showed  where  his  front  teeth  had  been 
but  where  tobacco  more  frequently  now  was,  with  lazy  de- 
light. 


BILL  PRESCOTT  PROPOSES      125 

He  called  this  day  wearing  a  clean,  patched  jumper  over 
his  cotton  shirt.  When  once  inside,  sprawling  his  legs  be- 
fore him,  and  while  Jack  Stewart  worked  in  the  sun  out- 
side, repairing  harness,  he  said  to  Agnes: 

"  Well,  old  girl,  how'd  you  like  to  marry  ? "  Agnes 
changed  color  a  few  times  before  she  could  decide  whether 
to  answer  or  not.  In  the  meantime,  patient  and  in  no  hurry, 
Bill  grinned  with  pleasure  at  the  ease  with  which  he  had 
started ;  showed  tobacco  where  his  teeth  had  been,  and  spat 
a  pound  of  juice,  with  plenty  of  drippings  trailing  out  the 
window  by  which  she  sat.  It  made  considerable  argument 
getting  through  the  screen,  but  succeeded  finally  —  most  of 
it,  the  remainder,  clung,  hesitated,  wavered,  and  finally  giving 
up,  dripped  slowly  to  the  ledge  below. 

"  Dog-gone,  myself,"  said  Bill,  getting  up  heavily  from 
his  chair,  and  going  to  the  window  and  thumping  it  lightly, 
whereupon  the  hesitant  amber,  dashed  in  many  directions 
about.  Agnes  had  observed  it  all  with  calm  disgust.  Bill, 
however,  not  the  least  perturbed  over  his  apparent  breach  of 
impropriety,  became  reseated,  and  resumed: 

"Well?" 

She  turned  her  eyes  slowly  toward  him,  surveyed  him 
coldly,  and  continued  at  her  sewing. 

Bill  muttered  something. 

She  regarded  him  again  with  cold  disdain. 

"  Haw,  haw  !  "  he  laughed  loudly.  "  You  don't  pretend 
t'  hear  me,  haw !  haw !  Then  I  guess  you're  stuck  on  that 
nigger  you  got  a  hangin'  round  here." 

"  Will  you  go ! "  she  cried,  as  she  quickly  jumped  to  her 
feet  and  swung  open  the  door.  She  controlled  herself  with 
considerable  effort. 

"  Oh,  ho !  So  that's  the  way  you  treat  a  white  man  — 
and  honor  a  d  — n  nigger !  "  And  with  that  he  dashed  out 


I26  THE  HOMESTEADER 

and  passed  to  where  the  senior  worked  away  over  his  har- 
ness. Jack  Stewart  saw  and  heard  Bill  approaching  with- 
out looking  up.  He  greeted : 

"  Ah-ha,  William.     And  how  are  you  today  ?  " 

Bill  was  struck  with  a  sudden  inspiration.  In  his  way 
he  really  liked  Agnes,  and  it  was  all  settled  in  his  mind  to 
wed  her.  He  realized  now  that  he  had  rather  bungled  mat- 
ters, and  thereupon  decided  to  exercise  a  little  more  discre- 
tion. So,  choking  down  the  anger  that  was  in  him,  and 
swallowing  a  bit  of  tobacco  juice  at  the  same  time,  he  said 
to  Stewart. 

"  Good  morning !  Ah,  by  the  way,  Jack,  I'd  like  to  marry 
Agnes."  So  saying,  he  was  pleased  with  himself  again, 
and  spat  tobacco  juice  more  easily  in  the  next  squirt.  Jack 
continued  working  at  his  harness.  For  the  moment  he  did 
not  appear  to  comprehend,  but  presently  he  raised  his  eyes 
with  the  old  style  glasses  before  them,  and  surveyed  Bill 
slowly. 

"  You  want  to  do  what  ?  "  he  said,  uncomprehendingly. 

"  To  marry  Agnes,"  Bill  repeated  calmly.  He  paused, 
looked  away,  sucked  his  soft  mouth  clean  of  amber  and 
spat  it  tricklingly  at  Jack's  feet,  and  looked  up  and  at  Jack 
with  a  wondrous  smile. 

Now  Jack  Stewart  was  possessed  with  certain  virtues. 
He  did  not  smoke,  chew,  drink,  swear  nor  shave.  He  was 
rather  put  out,  but  with  considerable  effort  at  self  control 
he  managed  to  say: 

"  Well,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about  it,  why  don't  you 
take  it  up  with  the  girl?"  Bill  hesitated  at  this  point, 
sucked  his  mouth  clear  again  of  tobacco  juice,  cleared  his 
throat,  spat  the  juice,  and,  after  a  hasty  glance  toward  the 
house,  decided  not  to  mention  that  he  had  spoken  with 
Agnes.  He  replied : 


BILL  PRESCOTT  PROPOSES  127 

"  Well,  I  thought  it  best  to  speak  to  you,  and  if  it's  all 
right  with  you,  it  ought  to  be  all  right  with  the  gal." 

Jack  Stewart  drew  up,  and  then  tried  to  relax.  He  did 
not  think  so  much  of  Bill;  but  he  did  think  the  world  of 
Agnes  and  wanted  her  respected  by  everybody.  Moreover, 
he  did  not  like  to  hear  her  "  galled."  He  turned  to  Wil- 
liam ;  he  regarded  him  keenly,  and  then  in  a  voice  and  words 
that  were  English,  but  accent  that  was  very  much  Scotch, 
the  which  we  will  not  attempt  to  characterize,  he  said : 

"  You're  a  joke.  Just  a  great,  big  joke."  He  paused 
briefly,  and  then  continued :  "  I'd  like  to  be  patient  with 
you;  but  honestly,  with  you  it  wouldn't  pay.  You  are  not 
worth  it.  And  in  so  far  as  my  girl  —  any  girl  is  concerned, 
I  cannot  imagine  how  you  could  even  expect  them  to  be 
interested."  He  paused  and  looked  away,  too  full  up  to  go 
ahead.  In  the  meantime  he  heard  Bill: 

"  Is  that  so! '" 

"  Is  it  so ! "  cried  Stewart  with  a  touch  of  vehemence. 
"  Gad !  See  yourself.  See  how  you  go !  Don't  you  ob- 
serve what's  around  you  close  enough  to  see  that  girls 
want  some  sedateness ;  they  admire  in  some  measure  clever- 
ness, clothes,  and  —  well,  manhood !  " 

"  So  I  don't  guess  I  have  it  ?  "  retorted  William,  sneer- 
ingly. 

"  Oh,  you  bore  me ! "  Jack  returned  disgustingly.  He 
bent  to  his  work  in  an  attempt  to  forget  it.  And  then  he 
again  heard  from  Bill : 

"  So  that's  the  way  yu'  got  it  figgered  out,  eh !  "  He  drew 
his  mouth  tight  shut.  He  gave  another  soft  suck  that  drew 
his  skin  close  to  his  gums,  and  with  his  tongue,  he  cleared 
his  mouth  and  spat  tobacco,  juice  and  all  in  a  soft  lump  at 
Stewart's  feet  and  said  in  unconcealed  anger :  "  So  that's 
the  way  you  got  me  figgered  out !  And  I  want  to  say,  now, 


I28  THE  HOMESTEADER 

that  I  don't  think  I  want  yer  gal,  anyhow.  I'm  a  white 
man,  I  am.  And  what  white  man  would  want  a  gal  that  a 
nigger  is  allowed  to  hang  aroun'  and  court !  " 

Jack  Stewart  was  struck  below  the  belt.  He  was  fouled, 
and  for  a  time  everything  went  dark  around  him,  he  was 
so  angry.  He  did  not  know  that  Jean  Baptiste  had  saved 
him  from  losing  his  stock  or  being  forced  to  sell  them ;  he 
had  never  connected  Baptiste  and  Agnes  as  being  other  than 
friends,  and  friends  they  had  a  right  to  be.  But  Jack 
Stewart  did  regard  Jean  Baptiste  as  a  gentleman  and  gentle- 
men he  respected.  His  knockout  therefore  was  brief.  He 
soon  recovered.  He  could  not  speak,  he  could  not  even 
stammer;  but  with  a  sudden  twitch  of  the  tug  his  hands 
held,  he  came  away  around  with  it,  and  the  heavy  leather 
took  Bill  fairly  in  the  mouth,  in  the  middle  of  the  mouth. 
And  then  Jack  got  his  voice,  and  ready  for  another  swing ; 
but  not  before  Bill  found  something,  too.  It  was  his  feet. 

"  You  stinkin',  low  down,  pup ! "  cried  Stewart,  falling 
over  from  the  force  of  the  swing  he  had  missed.  "  You 
trash  of  the  sand  hills!  You  tobacco  chewin',  ragga-muf- 
fin!"  Getting  his  balance,  and  turning  after  William 
madly,  he  resumed :  "  You  ornery,  nasty,  filthy,  houn' !  If 
I  get  my  han's  on  you,  I  swear  t'  God  I'll  kill  you." 

But  Bill  Prescott  now  held  the  advantage.  He  was 
younger,  and  more  fleet  of  foot;  so  therefore  out  ran  Jack, 
who  was  left  before  he  reached  the  gate,  far  to  the  rear, 
and  Bill  gained  his  side  of  the  wide  road  with  a  safe  lead. 
Jack  finally  came  to  a  stop  before  getting  off  the  premises 
with  his  blood  boiling  with  such  heat  that  he  drew  his  hat 
off  and  beat  himself  with  it.  In  the  meantime,  Agnes,  who 
had  witnessed  the  controversy  from  the  gate,  ventured  out 
to  where  her  father  stood  and  taking  him  gently  by  the  arm, 
she  led  him  inside. 


BILL  PRESCOTT  PROPOSES      129 

"  My  blood's  up,  my  blood's  up !  "  Jack  kept  crying  and 
repeating.  "  That  stinkin',  triflin'  peace  a  nothin',  has  been 
gittin'  smart.  Tryin'  to  low  rate  me ;  tryin'  to  low  rate  my 
girl.  Insultin'  Jean  Baptiste !  Dang  him,  dang  him !  " 

"  Father,  father !  "  cried  Agnes  soothingly. 

"  Did  you  hear'm !  Did  you  hear'm !  Why,  the  low 
down,  good  for  nothin',  I'm  a  good  mind  to  go  cross  the 
road  and  skin  him  alive !  " 

"  Father,  father !  "  begged  Agnes. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  he  said,"  insisted  the  infuriated 
senior. 

"  Yes,  father,"  she  confessed.     "  I  heard  him." 

"  You  did !  'N  that's  worse !  "  Whereupon  he  tore  loose 
and  threw  up  his  arms  in  an  angered  gesture. 

"  Now,  papa,"  Agnes  argued  kindly.  "  I  heard  him,  and 
what  he  said  to  you.  He  was  in  here  and  insul  —  spoke  to 
me  before  he  went  out  there.  ...  I  understand  all  about 
it.  ...  So  you  must  simply  be  calm  —  and  forget  it. 
That's  all.  .  .  ." 

"  I  don't  care  so  much  for  myself,  but  that  he  should 
speak  about  you  and  Baptiste!  I  just  wish  Baptiste  could 
have  heard  him  and  just  beat  the  gosh  danged  manure  right 
out  of  him." 

"  Please  be  quiet,  papa.  Forget  Bill  Prescott  and  what 
he  has  tried  to  insinuate.  .  .  .  We  understand  him  and 
what  he  is,  and  we  understand  Mr.  Baptiste  —  and  what 
he  is,  so  let  us  just  think  of  other  things." 

"  Yes,  Aggie,  I  suppose  you're  right.  You  always  seem 
to  be  right.  And  I  will  try  to  forget  it;  but  I'll  say  this 
much:  If  that  ornery,  lazy  cuss  ever  crosses  this  road 
to  my  place  again  I'll  thresh  him  within  an  inch  of  his 
life!" 

"  You've  agreed  to  forget  it,  father.  .  .  ." 


130 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  I  agree  again ;  but  it's  outrageous  that  he  should  say 
what  he  did  about  Jean  Baptiste,  now  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is,  father,"  she  admitted  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  Of  course  it  is.  Never  was  there  more  of  a  gentleman 
in  the  world  than  Jean  Baptiste." 

"  Mr.  Baptiste  is  a  real  gentleman,"  acknowledged  Agnes 
again. 

"  There  never  was,  and  he  knows  it,  the  pup !  " 

Agnes  was  strangely  silent,  which  Jack,  in  his  excitement 
overlooked. 

"  And  even  if  he  should  like  my  girl  — " 

"Father!" 

"Well?" 

"Oh,  please  hush!" 

"  I  will,  Aggie,"  he  said  slowly.  He  bent  forward  pres- 
ently, folded  her  close,  kissed  her,  and  then  placing  his  hat 
on  his  head,  went  back  to  his  work. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HARVEST  TIME  AND   WHAT  CAME   WITH   IT 

HARVEST  time,  harvest  time!  When  the  harvest 
time  is,  all  worries  have  passed.  When  the  harvest 
time  is,  all  doubts,  droughts,  fears  and  tears  are 
no  more.  When  the  golden  grain  falls  upon  the  canvas; 
when  the  meadow  larks,  the  robins  and  all  the  birds  of  the 
land  sing  the  song  of  harvest  time,  the  farmer  is  happy,  is 
gay,  and  confident. 

And  harvest  time  was  on  in  the  country  of  our  story. 

Jean  Baptiste  pulled  his  new  binder  before  the  barn, 
jumped  from  the  seat,  and  before  he  started  to  unhitch, 
he  gazed  out  over  a  stretch  of  land  which  two  years  before, 
had  been  a  mass  of  unbroken  prairie,  but  was  now  a  world 
of  shocked  grain.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of  shocks 
stood  over  the  field  like  a  great  army  in  the  distance.  His 
crop  was  good  —  the  best.  And  no  crops  are  like  the  crop 
on  new  land.  Never,  since  the  beginning  of  time  had  that 
soil  tasted  tamed  plant  life.  It  had  seemed  to  appreciate 
the  change,  and  the  countless  shocks  before  him  were  evi- 
dence to  the  fact. 

From  where  he  stood  when  he  had  unhitched,  he  gazed 
across  country  toward  the  southeast  where  lay  his  other 
land.  Only  a  part  of  which  he  could  see.  As  it  rose  in  the 
distance  he  could  see  the  white  topped  oats ;  and  just  beyond 
he  could  see  the  deep  purple  of  the  flaxseed  blossoms.  He 
sighed  contentedly,  unharnessed  his  horses,  let  them  drink, 
and  turned  them  toward  the  pasture.  He  was  not  tired ; 


1 32  THE  HOMESTEADER 

but  he  went  to  the  side  of  the  house  which  the  sun  did  not 
strike,  and  sat  him  down.  At  the  furthest  side  of  the  field 
he  observed  Bill  and  George  as  they  shocked  away  to  finish. 
He  was  at  peace  again,  as  he  always  was,  and  thereupon  fell 
into  deep  thought. 

"  My  crop  of  wheat  will  yield  not  less  than  thirty  bushels 
to  the  acre,"  he  whispered  to  himself.  "  And  one  hundred 
and  thirty  acres  should  then  yield  almost  four  thousand 
bushels.  I  should  receive  at  least  eighty  cents  the  bushel, 
and  that  would  approximate  about  three  thousand  dollars, 
with  seed  left  to  sow  the  land  again."  He  paused  in  his 
meditation,  and  considered  what  even  that  alone  would  mean 
to  him.  He  could  pay  the  entire  amount  on  the  land  he 
had  purchased,  and  perhaps  a  thousand  or  two  more  from 
the  flax  crop.  That  would  leave  him  owing  but  four  hun- 
dred dollars  on  the  land  he  had  bought,  and  that  amount  he 
felt  he  would  be  able  to  squeeze  out  somewhere  and  have 
520  acres  clear! 

He  could  not  help  being  cheerful,  perhaps  somewhat  vain 
over  his  prospects.  He  was  now  just  twenty-three  and 
appreciated  that  most  of  his  life  was  yet  before  him.  With, 
at  the  most,  two  or  three  more  seasons  like  the  present  one, 
he  could  own  the  coveted  thousand  acres  and  the  example 
would  be  completed. 

That  was  the  goal  toward  which  he  was  working.  If  he 
or  any  other  man  of  the  black  race  could  acquire  one  thou- 
sand acres  of  such  land  it  would  stand  out  with  more  credit 
to  the  Negro  race  than  all  the  protestations  of  a  world  of 
agitators  in  so  far  as  the  individual  was  concerned. 

"  It  is  things  accomplished,"  he  often  said  to  himself. 

"  It  is  what  is  actually  accomplished  that  will  get  notice  — 
and  credit !  Damn  excuses  !  The  best  an  excuse  can  secure 
is  dismissal,  and  positively  that  is  no  asset."  He  would 


HARVEST  TIME  133 

then  invariably  think  deeply  into  the  conditions  of  his  race, 
the  race  who  protested  loudly  that  they  were  being  held 
down.  Truly  it  was  an  intricate,  delicate  subject  to  try  to 
solve  with  prolific  thinkings.  He  compared  them  with  the 
Jew  —  went  away  back  to  thousands  of  years  before.  Out 
of  the  past  he  could  not  solve  it  either.  All  had  begun  to- 
gether. The  Jew  was  hated,  but  was  a  merchant  enjoying 
a  large  portion  of  the  world  commerce  and  success.  The 
Negro  was  disliked  because  of  his  black  skin  —  and  some- 
times seemingly  for  daring  to  be  human. 

At  such  times  he  would  live  over  again  the  life  that  had 
been  his  before  coming  West.  He  thought  of  the  multi- 
tudes in  the  employment  of  a  great  corporation  who 
monopolized  the  sleeping  car  trade.  Indeed  this  company 
after  all  was  said,  afforded  great  opportunities  to  the  men. 
Not  so  much  in  what  was  collected  in  tips  and  in  other 
devious  ways,  nor  from  the  small  salary,  but  from  the  great 
opportunity  of  observation  that  that  particular  form  of 
travel  afforded. 

But  so  few  made  the  proper  effort  to  benefit  themselves 
thereby.  He  continued  to  think  along  these  lines  until  his 
thoughts  came  back  to  a  point  where  in  the  past  they  were 
wont  to  come  and  stop.  He  could  not  in  that  moment  un- 
derstand why  they  had  not  been  coming  back  to  that  self- 
same point  in  recent  months.  .  .  .  Since  one  cold  day  during 
the  first  month  of  that  year.  ...  He  gave  a  start  when  he 
realized  why,  then  sighed.  It  seemed  too  much  for  his 
thoughts  just  then.  He  regarded  Bill  and  George  at  their 
task  of  trying  to  finish  their  work.  Upon  hearing  a  sound, 
he  turned.  Behind  him  stood  Agnes. 

"  My,  how  you  frightened  me !  "  he  cried. 

She  held  in  her  hand  a  basket  containing  lunch  for  him 
and  her  brothers.  This  she  had  brought  every  day,  but  he 


134 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


had  been  so  absorbed  in  his  thoughts  that  he  had  quite 
forgotten  that  she  was  coming  on  this  day  as  well.  As 
she  stood  quietly  before  him,  she  seemed  rather  shorter 
than  she  really  was,  also  more  slender,  and  appeared 
withal  more  girlish  than  usual.  Her  eyes  twinkled  and 
her  heavy  hair  drawn  together  at  the  back  of  her  head, 
hung  over  her  shoulders.  Her  sunkist  skin  was  a  bit 
tanned;  her  arms  almost  to  the  elbows  were  bare,  brown 
and  were  very  round.  And  as  Jean  Baptiste  regarded 
her  there  in  the  bright  golden  sunlight  she  appeared  to 
him  like  the  Virgin  Mary. 

"  You  are  tired/'  he  cried,  and  pointed  to  a  crude  bench 
that  reposed  against  the  sod  house,  which  he  had  just  left 
in  his  prolific  thinking  of  a  moment  before. 

"  Sit  down,  please,  and  rest  yourself,"  he  commanded. 
She  obeyed  him  modestly,  with  a  smile  still  upon  her 
pleasant  face. 

"  I  judge  that  Bill  and  George  will  finish  in  a  few  min- 
utes, so  I'll  wait,  that  we  may  all  dine  together.  You'll 
be  so  kind  as  to  wait  until  then,  will  you  not?"  he  asked 
graciously,  and  bowed. 

"  Until  then,  my  lord,"  she  smiled,  coquettishly. 

"  Thanks ! "  he  laughed,  good  humoredly.  Suddenly 
she  cried : 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  beautiful !  "  And  swept  her  hands  toward 
the  field  of  shocked  wheat.  He  had  been  looking  away, 
but  as  she  spoke  he  turned  and  smiled  with  satisfaction. 

"  It  is." 

"  Just  lovely/'  she  cried,  her  eyes  sparkling. 

"  And  all  safe,  that's  the  best  part  about  it,"  he  said. 

"  Grand.  I'm  so  glad  you  have  saved  it,"  she  said  with 
feeling. 


HARVEST  TIME  135 

"  Thank  you." 

"  You  have  earned  it." 

"  I  hope  so.     Still  I  thank  you." 

"  It  will  bring  you  lots  of  money/' 

"  I  am  hoping  it  will." 

"  Oh,  it  will." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  it  before  you  came  up." 

"  I  knew  it." 

"You  knew  it!" 

"  I  saw  you  from  a  distance/' 

"  Oh.  .  .  ." 

"  And  I  knew  you  were  thinking/' 

"  Oh,  come  now." 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  You're  always  thinking.  The  only 
time  when  you  are  not  is  when  you  are  sleeping." 

"  You  can  say  such  wonderful  things,"  he  said,  standing 
before  her,  the  sun  shining  on  his  tanned  features. 

"  Won't  —  ah  —  won't  you  be  seated  ?  "  she  invited.  He 
colored  unseen.  She  made  room  for  him  and  he  hesi- 
tatingly took  a  seat,  at  a  conventional  distance,  on  the 
bench  beside  her. 

"  Your  other  crops  are  fine,  too,"  she  said,  sociably. 

"  I'm  going  over  to  look  at  them  this  afternoon." 

"You  should." 

"  Where  is  your  father  today  ?  " 

"  Gone  to  town/' 

"  Wish  I'd  known  he  was  going ;  I'd  had  him  bring  out 
some  twine  for  me.  I  think  the  oats  will  be  ready  to  cut 
over  on  the  other  place  right  away,  and  I  don't  want  to 
miss  any  time." 

"  No,  indeed.  A  hail  storm  might  come  up/'  He 
glanced  at  her  quickly.  She  was  gazing  across  the  field 


136  THE  HOMESTEADER 

to  where  her  halfwitted  brothers  worked,  while  he  was 
thinking  how  thoughtful  she  was.  Presently  he  heard  her 
again. 

"  Why,  if  it  is  urgent  —  you  are  out,  I  —  I  could  go  to 
town  and  get  the  twine  for  you."  She  was  looking  at  him 
now  and  he  was  confused.  Her  offer  was  so  like  her,  so 
natural.  Why  was  it  that  they  understood  each  other 
so  well? 

"  Oh,  why,  Agnes,"  he  stammered,  "  that  would  be  ask- 
ing too  much  of  you !  " 

"  Why  so  ?  I  shall  be  glad  —  glad  to  oblige  you  in  any 
way.  And  it  is  not  too  much  if  one  takes  into  consider- 
ation what  you  have  done  for  —  I'll  be  glad  to  go.  .  .  ." 

"  Done  for  what  ?  "  he  said,  catching  up  where  she  had 
broken  off,  and  eyeing  her  inquiringly. 

She  was  confused  and  the  same  showed  in  her  face. 
She  blushed.  She  had  not  meant  to  say  what  she  did. 
But  he  was  regarding  her  curiously.  He  hadn't  thought 
about  the  note.  She  turned  then  and  regarded  him  out  of 
tender  eyes.  She  played  with  the  bonnet  she  held  in  her 
lap.  She  looked  away  and  then  back  up  into  his  face,  and 
her  eyes  were  more  tender  still.  In  her  expression  there 
was  almost  an  appeal. 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  what  you  started  to  say,  Agnes," 
he  repeated,  evenly,  but  kindly. 

"I  —  I  —  mean  what  you  did  for  papa.  What  —  you 
—  you  did  about  that  —  that  —  note."  It  was  out  at  last 
and  she  lowered  her  eyes  and  struggled  to  hold  back  the 
tears  with  great  effort. 

"  Oh,"  he  laughed  lowly,  relievedly.  "  That  was  noth- 
ing." And  he  laughed  again  as  if  to  dismiss  it. 

"  But  it  was  something,"  she  cried,  protestingly.  "  It 
was  something.  It  was  everything  to  us."  She  ended  with 


HARVEST  TIME  137 

great  emotion  apparent  in  her  shaking  voice.     He  shifted. 
It  was  awkward,  and  he  was  a  trifle  confused. 

"  Please  don't  think  of  it,  Agnes." 

"  But  how  can  I  keep  from  thinking  of  it  when  I  know 
that  had  it  not  been  your  graciousness ;  your  wonderful 
thoughtfulness,  your  great  kindness,  we  would  have  been 
sold  out  —  bankrupted,  disgraced,  oh,  me  !  "  She  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  but  he  could  see  the  tears  now 
raining  down  her  face  and  dropping  upon  her  lap. 

"  Oh,  Agnes,"  he  cried.  "  I  wish  you  wouldn't  do  that ! 
Please  don't.  It  hurts  me.  -  Besides,  how  did  you  know 
it?  I  told  Brookings  that  your  father  was  not  to  know  it. 
I  did  not  want  it  known."  He  paused  and  his  voice  shook 
slightly.  They  had  drawn  closer  and  now  she  reached 
out  and  placed  her  small  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Brookings  didn't  tell.  He  didn't  tell  papa ;  but  I 
knew."  She  was  looking  down  at  the  earth. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  she  heard  him  say  wonderingly. 

"  But  didn't  you  think,  Jean,  that  /  understood !  I  un- 
derstood the  very  day  —  a  few  minutes  after  papa  returned 
home,  brought  the  old  note  and  told  me  about  the  exten- 
sion." She  paused  and  looked  thoughtfully  away  across 
the  field.  "  I  understood  when  you  drove  by  a  few  min- 
utes later.  You  had  forgotten  about  it,  I  could  see,  and 
your  mind  was  on  other  things ;  but  the  moment  you  came 
into  my  sight,  and  I  looked  out  upon  you  from  the  window, 
I  knew  you  had  saved  us." 

Her  hand  still  rested  lightly  upon  his  arm.  She  was 
not  aware  of  it,  but  deeply  concerned  with  what  she  was 
saying.  Presently,  when  he  did  not  speak,  she  went  on. 
"  I  understood  and  knew  that  you  had  forgotten  it  —  that 
you  were  too  much  of  a  man  to  let  us  know  what  you  had 
done.  I  can't  forget  it!  I  have  wanted  to  tell  you  how 


138  THE  HOMESTEADER 

I  felt  —  I  felt  that  I  owed  it  to  you  to  tell  you,  but  I 
couldn't  before." 

"  Please  let's  forget  it,  Agnes,"  she  heard  him  whisper. 

"  I  can  keep  from  speaking  of  it,  but  forget  it  —  never ! 
It  was  so  much  like  you,  like  the  man  that's  in  you ! "  and 
the  tears  fell  again. 

"  Agnes,  Agnes,  if  you  don't  hush,  almost  I  will  forget 
myself.  .  .  ." 

"  I  had  to  tell  you,  I  had  to ! "  she  sobbed. 

"  But  it  is  only  a  small  return  for  what  you  did  for  me. 
Do  you  realize,  Agnes,  had  it  not  been  for  you,  I  —  I  — 
would  not  be  sitting  here  now?  Oh,  think  of  that  and  then 
you  will  see  how  little  I  have  done  —  how  very  little  I  can 
ever  do  to  repay !  "  His  voice  was  brave,  albeit  emotional. 
He  leaned  toward  her,  and  the  passion  was  in  his  face.  She 
grasped  his  arm  tighter  as  she  looked  up  again  into  his 
face  out  of  her  tear  bedimmed  eyes  and  cried  brokenly : 

"  But  Jean,  the  cases  are  not  parallel.  What  I  did  for 
you  I  would  have  done  for  anybody.  It  was  merely  an 
act  of  providence;  but  yours  —  oh,  Jean,  cant  you  under- 
stand!" He  was  silent. 

"  Yours  was  the  act  of  kindness,"  she  went  on  again, 
"  the  act  of  a  man ;  and  you  would  have  kept  it  secret ; 
because  you  would  never  have  had  it  known,  because  you 
would  not  have  us  feel  under  obligation  to  you.  Oh,  that 
is  what  makes  me  —  oh,  it  makes  me  cry  when  I  think  of 
it."  The  tears  flowed  freely  while  her  slender  shoulders 
shook  with  emotion. 

And  wheji  she  had  concluded,  the  man  beside  her  had 
forgotten  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  its  law  had 
passed  beyond  him.  He  was  as  a  man  toward  the  maid 
now.  Beside  him  wept  the  one  he  had  loved  as  a  dream 
girl.  Behind  him  was  the  house  with  the  bed  she  had  laid 


From  a  painting  by  W.  M.  Farrow. 

"BUT,  JEAN,  THE  CASES  ARE  NOT  PARALLEL.  WHAT  I 
DID  FOR  YOU  I  WOULD  HAVE  DONE  FOR  ANY  ONE;  BUT 
YOURS— OH,  JEAN,  CAN'T  YOU  UNDERSTAND!" 


HARVEST  TIME  139 

him  upon  when  she  saved  his  life.  And  when  he  had  awak- 
ened, before  being  conscious  of  where  he  was  or  what  had 
happened  to  him,  he  had  looked  into  her  eyes  and  had  seen 
therein  his  dream  girl.  She  was  his  by  the  right  of  God; 
he  forgot  now  that  she  was  white  while  he  was  black.  He 
only  remembered  that  she  was  his,  and  he  loved  her. 

His  voice  was  husky  when  he  answered: 

"Agnes,  oh,  Agnes,  I  begged  you  not  to.  I  almost  be- 
seeched  you,  because  — oh,  don't  you  understand  what  is 
in  me,  that  I  am  as  all  men,  weak?  To  have  seen  you  that 
night  —  the  night  I  can  never  forget,  the  night  when  you 
stood  over  me  and  I  came  back  to  life  and  saw  you.  You 
didn't  know  then  and  understand  that  I  had  dreamed  of 
you  these  two  years  since  I  had  come  here :  that  out  of 
my  vision  I  had  seen  you,  had  talked  with  you,  oh,  Agnes !  " 
She  straightened  perceptibly;  she  looked  up  at  him  with 
that  peculiarity  in  her  eyes  that  even  she  had  never  come 
to  understand.  They  became  oblivious  to  all  that  was 
about  them,  and  had  unconsciously  drawn  closer  together 
now  and  regarded  each  other  as  if  in  some  enchanted 
garden.  She  sang  to  him  then  the  music  that  was  in  her, 
and  the  words  were : 

"Jean,  oh,  Jean  Baptiste,  you  have  spoken  and  now  at 
last  7  understand.  And  do  you  know  that  before  I  left 
back  there  from  where  I  came,  I  saw  you:  I  dreamed  of 
you  and  that  I  would  know  you,  and  then  I  came  and  so 
strangely  met  and  have  known  you  now  for  the  man  you 
are,  oh,  Jean !  " 

Gradually  as  the  composure  that  had  been  theirs  passed 
momentarily  into  oblivion,  and  the  harvest  birds  twittered 
gayly  about  them,  his  man's  arm  went  out,  and  into  the 
embrace  her  slender  body  found  its  way.  His  lips  found 
hers,  and  all  else  was  forgotten. 


EPOCH  THE  SECOND 


EPOCH  THE  SECOND 
CHAPTER  I 

REGARDING  THE   INTERMARRIAGE  OF  RACES 

IT  WAS  winter,  and  the  white  snow  lay  everywhere; 
icicles  hung  from  the  eaves.  All  work  on  the  farms 
was  completed.  People  were  journeying  to  a  town 
half  way  between  Bonesteel  and  Gregory  to  take  the  train 
for  their  former  homes;  others  to  spend  it  with  their  rela- 
tives, and  Jean  Baptiste  was  taking  it  for  Chicago  and 
New  York  where  he  went  as  a  rule  at  the  end  of  each  year. 
He  was  going  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  apparently; 
for,  in  truth,  he  had  everything  to  make  him  feel  so  — 
that  is,  almost  everything.  He  had  succeeded  in  the  West. 
The  country  had  experienced  a  most  profitable  season,  and 
the  crop  he  reaped  and  sold  had  made  him  in  round  num- 
bers the  sum  of  seven  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  He 
had  paid  for  the  two  hundred  acres  of  land  he  had  bar- 
gained for;  he  had  seeded  more  land  in  the  autumn  just 
passed  to  winter  wheat  which  had  gone  into  the  winter 
in  the  best  of  shape;  his  health  was  the  best.  For  what 
more  could  he  have  wished? 

And  yet  no  man  was  more  worried  than  he  when  he 
stepped  from  the  stage  onto  the  platform  of  the  station 
where  he  was  to  entrain  for  the  East.  ...  It  is  barely  pos- 
sible that  any  man  could  have  been  more  sad.  ...  To  ex- 
plain this  we  are  compelled  to  go  back  a  few  months ;  back 

143 


144  THE  HOMESTEADER 

to  the  harvest  time;  to  his  homestead  and  where  he  sat 
with  some  one  near,  very  near,  and  what  followed. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it  —  I  loved  you ;  love  you  —  have  loved 
you  always !  "  he  passionately  told  her. 

For  answer  she  had  yielded  again  her  lips,  and  all  the 
love  of  her  warm  young  heart  went  out  to  him. 

"  I  don't  understand  you  always,  dear,"  he  whispered. 
"  Sometimes  there  is  something  about  you  that  puzzles 
me.  I  think  it's  in  your  eyes;  but  I  do  understand  that 
whatever  it  is  it  is  something  good  —  it  couldn't  be  other- 
wise, could  it?" 

"  No,  Jean,"  she  faltered. 

"And  did  you  wonder  at  my  calling  your  name  that 
night?" 

"  I  have  never  understood  that  fully  until  now/'  she  re- 
plied. 

"  You  came  in  a  vision,  and  it  must  have  been  divine,  two 
years  ago  gone  now,"  she  heard  him ;  "  and  ever  since  your 
face,  dear,  has  been  before  me.  I  have  loved  it,  and,  of 
course,  I  knew  that  I  would  surely  love  you  when  you 
came." 

Isn't  it  strange,"  she  whispered. 

"  But  beautiful." 

"  So  beautiful/' 

"  Was  it  providence,  or  was  it  God  that  brought  you  that 
night  and  saved  me  from  the  slow  death  that  was  coming 
over  me,  Agnes  ?  " 

"Please,  Jean,  don't!  Don't  speak  again  of  that  awful 
night!  Surely  it  must  have  been  some  divine  providence 
that  brought  me  to  this  place;  but  I  can  never  recall  it 
without  a  tremor.  To  think  that  you  would  have  died  out 
there!  Please,  never  tell  me  of  it  again,  dear."  She 
trembled  and  nestled  closer  to  him,  while  her  little  heart 


INTERMARRIAGE  OF  RACES  145 

beat  a  tattoo  against  her  ribs.  They  looked  up  then,  as 
across  the  field  her  halfwitted  brothers  were  approaching. 
It  was  only  then  that  they  seemed  to  realize  what  had  trans- 
pired and  upon  realization  they  silently  disembraced.  What 
had  passed  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  true; 
and  to  them  it  had  come  because  it  was  in  them  to  assert 
themselves,  but  now  before  him  rose  the  Custom  of  the 
Country,  and  its  law.  So  vital  is  this  Custom;  so  much  is 
it  a  part  of  the  body  politic  that  certain  states  have  went 
on  record  against  it.  Not  because  any  bad,  or  good,  any 
wealth  or  poverty  was  involved.  It  had  been  because  of 
sentiment,  the  sentiment  of  the  stronger  faction.  .  .  . 

So  it  ruled. 

In  the  lives  of  the  two  in  our  story,  no  thought  but  to 
live  according  to  God's  law,  and  the  law  of  the  land,  had 
ever  entered  their  minds,  but  now  they  had  while  laboring 
under  the  stress  of  the  pent-up  excitement  and  emotion 
overruled  and  forgot  the  law  two  races  are  wont  to 
observe  and  had  given  vent  and  words  to  the  feeling  which 
was  in  them.  .  .  .  They  stood  conventionally  apart  now, 
each  absorbed  in  the  calm  realization  of  their  positions  in 
our  great  American  society.  They  were  obviously  dis- 
turbed ;  but  that  which  had  drawn  them  to  the  position  they 
had  occupied  and  declared,  still  remained,  and  that  was 
love. 

So  time  had  gone  on  as  time  will ;  never  stopping  for  any- 
thing, never  hesitating,  never  delaying.  So  the  day  went, 
and  the  week  and  the  month,  and  the  month  after  that  and 
the  month  after  that,  until  in  time  the  holidays  were  near, 
and  Jean  Baptiste  was  going  away,  away  to  forget  that 
which  was  more  to  him  than  all  the  world  —  the  love  of 
Agnes  Stewart. 

He  had  considered  it  —  he  had  considered  it  before  he 


146  THE  HOMESTEADER 

caught  the  one  he  loved  into  his  arms  and  said  the  truth 
that  was  in  him.  .  .  .  But  there  was  another  side  to  it 
that  will  have  much  space  in  our  story. 

Down  the  line  a  few  stations  from  where  he  now  was, 
there  lived  an  example.  A  man  had  come  years  ago  into 
the  country,  there,  a  strong,  powerfully  built  man.  He 
was  healthy,  he  was  courageous  and  he  was  dark,  because 
forsooth,  the  man  was  a  Negro.  And  so  it  had  been  with 
time  this  man's  heart  went  out  to  one  near  by,  a  white.  Be- 
cause of  his  race  it  was  with  him  as  with  Jean  Baptiste. 
Near  him  there  had  been  none  of  his  kind.  So  unto  him- 
self he  had  taken  a  white  wife.  He  had  loved  her  and  she 
had  loved  him ;  and  because  it  was  so,  she  had  given  to  him 
children.  And  when  the  children  had  come  she  died. 
And  after  she  had  died  and  some  years  had  passed,  he 
took  unto  himself  another  wife  of  the  same  blood,  and 
to  that  union  there  had  come  other  children. 

So  when  years  had  passed,  and  these  selfsame  children 
had  reached  their  majority,  they  too,  took  unto  themselves 
wives,  and  the  wives  were  of  the  Caucasian  blood.  But 
when  this  dark  man  had  settled  in  the  land  below,  which,  at 
that  time,  had  been  a  new  country,  he  decided  to  claim  him- 
self as  otherwise  than  he  was.  He  said  and  said  again, 
that  he  was  of  Mexican  descent,  mongrel,  forsooth;  but 
there  was  no  Custom  Of  The  Country  with  regard  to  the 
Mexican,  mongrel  though  he  be.  But  the  people  and  the 
neighbors  all  knew  that  he  lied  and  that  he  was  Ethiopian, 
the  which  looked  out  through  his  eyes.  But  even  to  merely 
claim  being  something  else  was  a  sort  of  compromise. 

So  his  family  had  grown  to  men  and  women,  and  they 
in  turn  brought  more  children  into  the  world.  And  all 
claimed  allegiance  to  a  race  other  than  the  one  to  which 
they  belonged. 


INTERMARRIAGE  OF  RACES  147 

Once  lived  a  man  who  was  acknowledged  as  great  and 
much  that  goes  with  greatness  was  given  unto  him  by  the 
public.  A  Negro  he  was,  but  as  a  climax  in  his  great  life, 
he  had  married  a  wife  of  that  race  that  is  superior  in  life, 
wealth  and  achievements  to  his  own,  the  Caucasian.  So 
it  had  gone. 

The  first  named,  Jean  Baptiste  never  felt  he  could  be 
quite  like.  Even  if  he  should  disregard  The  Custom  Of 
The  Country,  and  its  law,  and  marry  Agnes,  he  did  not 
feel  he  would  ever  attempt  that.  But  to  marry  out  of 
the  race  to  which  he  belonged,  especially  into  the  race 
in  which  she  belonged,  would  be  the  most  unpopular  thing 
he  could  do.  He  had  set  himself  in  this  new  land  to  suc- 
ceed ;  he  had  worked  and  slaved  to  that  end.  He  liked  his 
people;  he  wanted  to  help  them.  Examples  they  needed, 
and  such  he  was  glad  he  had  become;  but  if  he  married 
now  the  one  he  loved,  the  example  was  lost;  he  would  be 
condemned,  he  would  be  despised  by  the  race  that  was  his. 
Moreover,  last  but  not  least,  he  would  perhaps,  by  such  a 
union  bring  into  her  life  much  unhappiness,  and  he  loved 
her  too  well  for  that. 

Jean  Baptiste  had  decided.  He  loved  Agnes,  and  had 
every  reason  to;  but  he  forswore.  He  would  change  it. 
He  would  go  back  from  where  he  had  come.  He  would 
be  a  man  as  befitted  him  to  be.  He  would  find  a  girl;  he 
would  marry  in  his  race.  They  had  education;  they  were 
refined  —  well,  he  would  marry  one  of  them  anyhow ! 

So  Jean  Baptiste  was  going.  He  would  forget  Agnes. 
He  would  court  one  in  his  own  race.  So  to  Chicago  he 
now  sped. 

He  had  lived  in  the  windy  city  before  going  West, 
and  was  very  familiar  with  that  section  of  the  city  on  the 
south  side  that  is  the  center  of  the  Negro  life  of  that  great 


I48  THE  HOMESTEADER 

metropolis.  Accordingly,  he  approached  a  station  in  the 
loop  district,  entered  one  of  the  yellow  cars  and  took  a  seat. 
He  looked  below  at  the  hurly-burly  of  life  and  action,  and 
then  his  eyes  took  survey  of  the  car.  It  was  empty,  all  save 
himself  and  another,  and  that  other  was  a  girl,  a  girl  of 
his  race!  The  first  he  had  seen  since  last  he  was  in  the 
city.  How  little  did  she  know  as  she  sat  across  the  aisle 
from  him,  that  she  was  the  first  of  his  race  his  eyes  had 
looked  upon  for  the  past  twelve  months.  He  regarded  her 
curiously.  She  was  of  that  cross  bred  type  that  are  so 
numerous,  full  bloods  seemingly  to  have  become  rare  about 
those  parts.  She  was  of  a  light  brown  complexion,  almost 
a  mulatto.  She  seemed  about  twenty-two  years  of  age.  Of 
the  curious  eyes  upon  her  she  seemed  entirely  unaware, 
finally  leaving  the  train  at  a  station  that  he  was  familiar 
with  and  disappeared. 

At  Thirty-first  Street  he  left  the  train,  fell  in  with  the 
scattered  crowd  below  and  the  dash  of  the  city  life  was 
his  again  in  a  twinkling.  He  found  his  way  to  State  Street, 
the  great  thoroughfare  of  his  people.  The  novelty  in  view- 
ing those  of  his  clan  now  had  left  him,  for  they  were  all 
about.  Even  had  he  been  blind  he  could  have  known  he  was 
among  them,  for  was  not  there  the  usual  noise;  the  old 
laugh,  and  all  that  went  with  it  ? 

He  hurried  across  and  passed  down  Thirty-first  to  Dear- 
born Street,  Darktown  proper;  but  even  when  he  had 
reached  Federal,  then  called  Armour,  he  had  seen  noth- 
ing but  his  race.  He  had  friends  —  at  least  acquaintances, 
so  to  where  they  lived  he  walked  briskly. 

"  And  if  it  isn't  Jean  Baptiste,  so  'elp  me  Jesus,"  cried 
the  woman,  as  she  opened  the  door  in  response  to  his  knock, 
and  without  further  ceremony  encircled  his  neck  with  her 
arms,  and  kissed  his  lips  once  and  twice.  "  You  old  dear !  " 


INTERMARRIAGE  OF  RACES  149 

she  exclaimed  with  him  inside,  holding  him  at  arms'  length 
and  regarding  him  fondly.  "  How  are  you,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  fine,"  he  replied,  regarding  her  pleasantly. 

"  You  are  certainly  looking  good,"  she  said,  looking  up 
into  his  face  with  fun  in  her  eyes.  "  Sit  down,  sit  down  and 
make  yourself  at  home,"  she  invited,  drawing  up  a  chair. 

"Well,  how's  Chicago?"  he  inquired  irrelevantly. 

"  Same  old  burg,"  she  replied,  drawing  a  chair  up  close. 

"And  how's  hubby?" 

"Fine!" 

"  And  the  rest  of  the  family?  " 

"  The  same.     Pearl,  too." 

"Oh,  Pearl.  .  .  .  How  is  Pearl?" 

"  Still  single.  .  .  ." 

"  Thought  she  was  engaged  to  be  married  when  I  was 
here  last  year  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  fellow  was  no  good !  " 

"  What  was  the  matter  ?" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  lots  of  these  nigga'  men  'round 
Chicago  ?  They  can't  keep  a  wife  a  posing  on  State  Street." 

"  Humph ! " 

"  It's  the  truth !  " 

"  And  how  about  the  women?  They  seem  to  be  fond  of 
passing  along  to  be  posed  at.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  you're  mean,"  she  pouted.  Then :  "  Are  you 
married  yet?  " 

"  Oh,  lordy !  How  could  I  get  married  ?  Not  thirty 
minutes  ago  I  saw  the  first  colored  girl  I  have  seen  in  a 
year ! " 

"Oh,  you're  a  liar!" 

"It's  the  truth!" 

"  Is  it  so,  Jean  ?  Have  you  really  not  seen  a  colored  girl 
in  a  whole  year  ?  " 


THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  I  have  never  lied  to  you,  have  I  ?  " 

"  Well,  no.  Of  course  you  haven't ;  but  I  don't  know 
what  I  would  do  under  such  circumstances.  Not  seeing 
nigga's  for  a  year." 

"  But  I've  seen  enough  already  to  make  up." 

She  laughed.  "  Lordy,  me.  Did  you  ever  see  so  many 
'  shines '  as  there  are  on  State  Street !  "  She  paused  and 
her  face  became  a  little  serious  for  a  moment.  "  By  the 
way,  Jean,  why  don't  you  marry  my  sister  ?  " 

"  You're  shameful !  Your  sister  wouldn't  have  me.  I'm 
a  farmer." 

"  Oh,  yes  she  would.  Pearl's  getting  tired  of  getting 
engaged  to  these  Negroes  around  Chicago.  She  likes  you, 
anyhow." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  he  laughed  depreciatingly.  "  Pearl  would 
run  me  ragged  out  there  on  that  farm !  "  She  laughed  too. 

"  No,  she  wouldn't,  really.  Pearl  is  good  looking  and  is 
tired  of  working." 

"  She's  good  looking,  all  right,  and  perhaps  tired  of  work- 
ing; but  she  wouldn't  do  out  there  on  the  farm." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  do.     I'll  bet  you  are  married  already." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  White !  " 

"But  you're  engaged?" 

"Nope!" 

"Jean.  I'll  bet  you'll  marry  a  white  girl  out  there  and 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  nigga's." 

"  Now  you're  worse." 

"  And  when  you  marry  a  white  woman,  I  want  to  be 
the  first  one  to  shoot  you  —  in  the  leg." 

He  laughed  long  and  uproariously." 

'  You  can  laf  all  you  want ;  but  you  ain't  goin'  through 
life  lovin'  nobody.  You  gotta  girl  somewhere;  but  do 
what  you  please  so  long  as  it  don't  come  to  that." 


INTERMARRIAGE  OF  RACES  151 

"Come  to  what?" 

"Marrying  a  white  woman." 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  all  right?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  glare.  He  smiled  amusedly. 
"  Don't  you  laf  here  on  a  subject  like  that!  Lord!  I  think 
lots  of  you,  but  if  I  should  hear  that  you  had  married  a 
white  woman,  man,  I'd  steal  money  enough  to  come  there 
and  kill  you  dead !  " 

"  Why  would  you  want  to  do  that  ?  " 

"  Why  would  I  want  to  do  that?  Humph !  What  you 
want  to  ask  me  such  a  question  for  ?  The  idea !  " 

"  But  you  haven't  answered  my  question  ?  " 

She  glared  at  him  again,  all  the  humor  gone  out  of  her  face. 
Presently,  biting  at  the  thread  in  some  sewing  she  was  doing, 
she  said :  "  In  the  first  place,  white  people  and  Negroes 
have  no  business  marrying  each  other.  In  the  second  place, 
a  nigga'  only  gets  a  po'  white  woman.  And  in  the  third 
place,  white  people  and  nigga's  don't  mix  well  when  it  comes 
to  society.  Now,  supposin'  you  married  a  white  woman 
and  brought  her  here  to  Chicago,  who  would  you  associate 
with?  We  nigga's  's  sho  goin'  to  pass  'er  up.  And  the 
white  folks  —  you  better  not  look  their  way ! " 

He  was  silent. 

"  Ain't  I  done  outlined  it  right?  " 

"  You've  revealed  some  very  delicate  points  with  regard 
to  the  matter,"  he  acknowledged. 

"Of  course  I  have,  and  you  can't  get  away  from  it.  But 
that  ain't  all.  Now,  to  be  frank  with  yu'.  I  wouldn't  ceh 
so  much  about  some  triflin'  no  'count  nigga'  marrying  some 
old  white  woman;  but  that  ain't  the  kind  no  white  woman 
wants  when  she  stoops  so  low  as  to  marry  a  nigga'.  Uh, 
naw !  Naw  indeedy !  She  don't  fool  with  nothin'  like 
that!  She  leaves  that  kind  for  some  poor  colored  woman 


152 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


to  break  her  heart  and  get  her  head  broken  over.  She  mar- 
ries somebody  like  you  with  plenty  of  money  and  sense  with 
•it,  see!" 

He  laughed  amusedly. 

"  No  laffin'  in  it.  You  know  I'm  tellin'  the  truth.  So 
take  warning !  Don't  marry  no  white  woman  up  there  and 
come  trottin'  down  here  expectin'  me  to  give  you  blessin'. 
Because  if  you  do,  and  just  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Ida 
White,  I'm  going  to  do  something  to  you !  " 

"  But  a  white  woman  might  help  a  fellow  to  get  up  in 
the  world/'  he  argued. 

"Yes,  I'll  admit  that,  too.  But  ouh  burden  is  ouh  bur- 
den, and  we've  got  to  bear  it.  And,  besides,  you  c'n  get 
a  girl  that'll  help  you  when  you  really  want  a  wife.  That 
ain't  no  argument.  Of  course  I'd  like  to  see  Pearl  mar- 
ried. But  you  ain't  going  to  fool  with  her,  and  I  know  it. 
Pearl  thinks  she  would  like  it  better  if  she  could  marry 
somebody  from  out  of  Chicago;  but  they'd  all  be  the  same 
after  a  month  or  so  with  her." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I'd  better  get  over  to  the  Keystone. 
You've  interested  me  today.  I've  learned  something  re- 
garding the  amalgamation  of  races.  .  .  ." 

"  I  hope  you  have,  if  you  had  it  in  your  mind.  Any- 
thing else  might  be  forgiven,  but  marrying  a  white  woman 
—  never ! " 

They  parted  then.  She  to  her  sewing,  and  Jean  Bap- 
tiste  to  his  thoughts.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  II 

WHICH? 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  returned  to  the  West  after  two 
months'  travel  through  the  East,  and  the  spring  fol- 
lowing, sowed  a  large  crop  of  small  grain  and  reaped 
a  bountiful  yield  that  fall.  About  this  time  the  county 
just  west  of  where  he  lived  was  opened  to  settlement,  and 
a  still  larger  crowd  than  had  registered  for  the  land  in 
the  county  he  lived  came  hither  and  sought  a  quarter 
section. 

The  opening  passed  to  the  day  of  the  drawing,  and 
when  all  the  lucky  numbers  had  secured  their  filings,  con- 
tracts for  the  purchases  of  relinquishments  began.  By 
this  time  the  lands  had  reached  great  values,  and  that 
which  he  had  purchased  a  short  time  before  for  twenty 
dollars  the  acre,  had  by  this  time  reached  the  value  of 
fifty  dollars  the  acre.  And  now  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  increasing  his  possessions  to  the  number  coveted,  one 
thousand  acres. 

He  had  paid  a  visit  to  his  parents  that  winter,  and 
found  his  sisters,  who  were  mere  children  when  he  had 
left  home,  grown  to  womanhood,  and  old  enough  to  take 
claims.  So  with  them  he  had  discussed  the  matter.  In- 
spired by  his  great  success,  they  were  all  heart  and  soul 
to  follow  his  bidding;  so  thereupon  it  was  agreed  that  he 
would  try  to  secure  three  relinquishments  on  good  quarters, 
and  upon  one  or  more  of  these  they  would  make  filings. 

His  grandmother,  who  had  raised  a  family  in  the  days  of 

153 


154 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


slavery  agreed  and  was  anxious  to  file  on  one ;  one  sister  on 
another,  and  the  third  place, —  was  to  be  his  bride's. 

By  doing  this,  he  could  have  her  use  her  homestead 
right,  providing  she  filed  on  the  claim  before  marrying  him. 
So  it  was  planned.  But  Jean  Baptiste  knew  no  girl  that 
he  could  ask  to  become  his  wife,  therefore  this  was  yet 
to  be.  When  he  had  given  up  his  real  love  to  be  loyal  to 
his  race,  he  had  determined  on  one  thing:  that  marriage 
was  a  business,  even  if  it  was  supposed  to  be  inspired  by 
love.  But  when  Agnes  was  left  out,  he  loved  no  one. 
Therefore  it  must  be  resolved  into  a  business  proposition 
—  and  the  love  to  come  after. 

So,  resigned  to  the  fact,  he  set  himself  to  choose  a  wife. 

On  his  trip  East  the  winter  before  he  met  two  persons 
with  whom  he  had  since  corresponded.  One,  the  first,  was 
a  young  man  not  long  out  of  an  agricultural  college  whose 
father  was  a  great  success  as  a  potato  grower.  He  and 
Jean  became  intimate  friends.  It  now  so  happened  that  the 
one  mentioned  had  a  sister,  and  through  him  Jean  Baptiste 
was  introduced  to  her  by  mail. 

Correspondence  followed  and  by  this  time  it  had  become 
very  agreeable.  She  proved  to  be  a  very  logical  young 
woman,  and  Jean  Baptiste  was  favorably  impressed.  She 
was,  moreover,  industrious,  ambitious,  and  well  educated. 
Her  age  was  about  the  same  as  his,  so  on  the  surface  he 
thought  that  they  should  make  a  very  good  match.  So  be  it. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  he  had  opened  a  correspond- 
ence with  another  whom  he  had  met  on  his  trip  the  winter 
before  where  she  had  been  teaching  in  a  coal  mining  town 
south  of  Chicago.  The  same  had  developed  mutually,  and 
he  had  found  her  agreeable  and  obviously  eligible.  Her 
father  was  a  minister,  a  dispenser  of  the  gospel,  and  while 
for  reasons  we  will  become  acquainted  with  in  due  time, 


WHICH?  155 

he  had  cultivated  small  acquaintance  with  preachers,  he 
took  only  such  slight  consideration  of  the  girl's  father's  pro- 
fession that  he  had  good  cause  to  recall  some  time  later. 

About  the  time  he  was  deeply  engrossed  in  his  corre- 
spondence with  both  the  farmer's  daughter  and  the  young 
school  teacher,  he  received  a  letter  from  a  friend  in  Chicago 
introducing  him  to  a  lady  friend  of  hers  through  mail. 
This  one  happened  to  be  a  maid  on  the  Twentieth  Century 
Limited,  running  between  New  York  and  Chicago.  Well, 
Jean  Baptiste  was  looking  for  a  wife.  Sentiment  was  in 
order,  but  it  was  with  him,  first  of  all,  a  business  propo- 
sition. So  be  it.  He  would  give  her  too  a  chance. 

He  was  somewhat  ashamed  of  himself  when  he  ad- 
dressed three  letters  when  perhaps,  he  should  have  been  ad- 
dressing but  one.  It  was  not  fair  to  either  of  the  three, 
he  guiltily  felt;  but,  business  was  business  with  him. 

From  his  friend's  sister  he  received  most  delightful 
epistles,  not  altogether  frivolous,  with  a  great  amount  of 
common  sense  between  the  lines.  But  what  was  more  to 
the  point,  her  father  was  wealthy,  and  she  must  have  some 
conception  of  what  was  required  to  accumulate  and  to 
hold.  He  rather  liked  her,  it  now  seemed. 

Now  from  the  preacher's  daughter  he  received  also  pleas- 
ing letters.  Encouraging,  but  not  to  say  unconventionally 
forward.  He  appreciated  the  fact  that  she  was  a  preach- 
er's child,  and  naturally  expected  to  conform  to  a  certain 
custom. 

But  from  New  York  he  received  the  most  encourage- 
ment. The  position  the  maid  held  rather  thrilled  him.  He 
loved  the  road  —  and  she  wrote  such  letters  !  It  was  plain 
to  be  seen  here  what  the  answer  would  be. 

Which? 

He  borrowed  ten  thousand   dollars,  giving  a  mortgage 


156  THE  HOMESTEADER 

upon  his  land  in  security  therefor.  He  purchased  relin- 
quishments  upon  three  beautiful  quarter  sections  of  land 
in  the  county  lying  just  to  the  west.  The  same,  having  to 
be  homesteaded  before  title  was  acquired,  had  all  ready 
been  in  part  arranged  for.  His  grandmother  and  sister 
were  waiting  to  file  on  a  place  each  —  the  third  was  for 
the  bride-to-be.  There  remained  a  few  weeks  yet  in  which 
to  make  said  selection;  but,  notwithstanding,  all  must  be 
ready  to  make  filing  not  later  than  the  first  day  of  October 
—  and  September  at  last  arrived. 

He  became  serious,  then  uneasy.  Which?  He  wrote  all 
three  letters  that  would  give  either  or  all  a  right  to  hear 
the  words  from  him,  but  did  not  say  sufficient  to  any  to 
give  grounds  for  a  possible  breach  of  promise  suit  later. 

He  rather  liked  the  girl  whose  father  had  made  money. 
Yes,  it  so  seemed  —  more  than  either  of  the  other  two.  A 
match  with  her  on  the  surface  seemed  more  practical.  But 
for  some  reason  she  did  not  reply  within  the  time  to  the 
letter  he  had  written  her.  Oh,  if  he  could  only  have 
courted  her;  could  have  been  in  the  position  to  have  seen 

her  of  a  warm  night ;  to  have  said  to  her :  " ." 

Poor  Jean  Baptiste  your  life  might  not  have  later  come  to 
what  it  did.  .  .  . 

He  waited  —  but  in  vain.  October  was  drawing  danger- 
ously near  when  at  last  he  left  for  somewhere.  Indeed  he 
had  not  a  complete  idea  where,  but  of  one  thing  he  had 
concluded,  when  he  returned  he  would  bring  the  bride-to-be. 

At  Omaha  he  made  up  his  mind.  The  girl  whose  father 
had  made  money  had  had  her  chance  and  failed.  He  re- 
gretted it  very  much,  but  this  was  a  business  proposition, 
and  he  had  two  thousand  dollars  at  stake  that  he  would 
lose  if  he  failed  to  get  some  one  to  file  on  that  quarter 
section  he  had  provided,  on  October  first. 


WHICH?  157 

He  was  rather  disturbed  over  the  idea.  He  really  would 
have  preferred  a  little  more  sentiment  —  but  time  had  be- 
come the  expedient.  "Of  course,"  he  argued,  as  he  sped 
toward  Chicago,  "  I'll  be  awfully  good  to  the  one  I  choose, 
so  if  it  is  a  little  out  of  the  ordinary  —  why,  I'll  try  to 
make  up  for  it  when  she  is  mine." 

With  this  consolation  he  arrived  in  Chicago,  wishing  that 
the  girl  who  lived  two  hundred  miles  south  of  Omaha  and 
whose  father  was  well-to-do  had  replied  to  his  letter.  He 
really  had  chosen  her  out  of  the  three.  However,  he  re- 
signed himself  to  the  inevitable  —  one  of  the  other  two. 

He  left  the  train  and  boarded  the  South  Side  L.  He 
got  off  again  at  Thirty-first  Street,  and  found  what  he  had 
always  found  before,  State  Street  and  Negroes.  He  was 
not  interested  in  either  this  time.  He  had  sent  a  tele- 
gram to  New  York  from  Omaha  to  the  effect  that  he  was 
headed  for  Chicago.  It  was  to  the  maid,  for  she  had  drawn 
second  choice.  He  planned  to  meet  her  at  the  number  her 
dear  friend  —  and  the  match  maker,  lived. 

So  it  was  to  this  number  he  now  hurried. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Baptiste,"  cried  this  little  woman,  whose  name 
happened  to  be  Rankin,  and  she  was  an  old  maid.  She 
gave  him  her  little  hand,  and  was  "  delighted  "  to  see  him. 

"  And  you've  come !  Miss  Pitt  will  be  so  glad !  She 
has  talked  of  nobody  but  Mr.  Baptiste  this  summer.  Oh, 
I'm  so  glad  you  have  come ! "  and  she  shook  his  hand 
again. 

"  I  sent  her  a  telegram  that  I  was  coming,  and  I  trust  she 
will  let  me  know.  .  .  ." 

"  She  is  due  in  tomorrow,"  cried  their  little  friend,  and 
her  voice  was  like  delicate  music. 

"I  expect  a  telegram,"  he  said  evenly.  "  I  am  somewhat 
rushed." 


158  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Indeed !  But  of  course,  you  are  a  business  man,  Mr. 
Baptiste,"  chimed  Miss  Rankin  with  much  admiration  in 
her  little  voice.  "  How  Miss  Pitt  will  like  you !  " 

Jean  Baptiste  smiled  a  smile  of  vanity.  He  was  getting 
anxious  to  meet  Miss  Pitt  himself  —  inasmuch  as  he  ex- 
pected to  ask  her  to  become  his  wife  on  the  morrow. 

"  Ting-aling-aling !  "  went  the  bell  on  the  street  door,  and 
little  Miss  Rankin  rushed  forth  to  open  it. 

"  Special  for  Mr.  Jean  Baptiste,"  he  heard  and  went  to 
get  it.  After  signing,  he  broke  the  seal  a  little  nervously, 
and  drawing  the  contents  forth,  read  the  enclosed  message. 

He  sighed  when  it  was  over.  Miss  Pitt  had  been  taken 
with  a  severe  attack  of  neuralgia  in  New  York,  was  indis- 
posed and  under  the  care  of  a  physician,  but  would  be  in 
Chicago  in  six  days.  He  studied  the  calendar  on  the  wall. 
Six  days  would  mean  October  second ! 

Too  late,  Miss  Pitt,  your  chance  is  gone.  And  now  we 
turn  to  the  party  of  the  third  part  who  will  follow  us  through 
our  story. 


From  a  painting  by  W.  M.  Farrow. 

"MISS  PITT  WAS  SO  ANXIOUS  TO  MEET  YOU  AND  I  WAS, 
TOO,  BECAUSE  I  THINK  YOU  AND  HER  WOULD  LIKE  EACH 
OTHER.  SHE'S  AN  AWFULLY  GOOD  GIRL  AND  WILLING  TO 
HELP  A  FELLOW." 


CHAPTER  III 

MEMORIES  —  N.   JUSTINE   MCCARTHY 

"^1   HE  will  not  be  in  tomorrow,"  said  Baptiste,  hand- 

^^     ing  the  letter  to  Miss  Rankin. 

^-^  "  Oh,  is  that  so !  "  cried  Miss  Rankin  in  a  tone 
of  deep  disappointment,  as  she  took  the  letter.  "  Now  isn't 
that  just  too  bad !  " 

"  It  is,"  agreed  Baptiste.  "  I  will  not  get  to  see  her,  since 
I  shall  have  to  return  to  the  West  not  later  than  two  or 
three  days."  He  was  extremely  disappointed.  He  sat 
down  with  a  sigh  and  rested  his  chin  in  his  palm,  looking 
before  him  thoughtfully. 

"  I'm  sure  sorry,  so  sorry,"  mused  Miss  Rankin  ab- 
stractedly. "  And  you  cannot  possibly  wait  until  next 
week  ?  "  she  asked,  anxiously. 

He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  Impossible,  absolutely  impossible." 

"  It  is  certainly  too  bad.  Miss  Pitt  was  so  anxious  to 
meet  you.  And  I  was,  too,  because  I  think  you  and  her 
would  like  each  each  other.  She's  an  awfully  good  girl, 
and  willing  to  help  a  fellow.  Just  the  kind  of  a  girl  you 
need." 

He  shifted  his  position  now  and  was  absorbed  in 
his  thoughts.  He  had  come  back  to  his  purpose.  He  was 
sorry  for  Miss  Pitt;  but  he  had  also  been  sorry  that  Miss 
Grey  had  not  answered  his  letter.  .  .  .  The  association  with 
neither,  true,  had  developed  into  a  love  affair,  so  would  not 


160  THE  HOMESTEADER 

be  hard  to  forget.  He  had  agreed  with  himself  that  love 
was  to  come  later.  He  had  exercised  discretion.  Any  one 
of  the  three  was  a  desirable  mate  from  a  practical  point  of 
•view.  After  marriage  he  was  confident  that  they  could 
conform  sufficiently  to  each  other's  views  to  get  along,  per- 
haps be  happy.  Miss  McCarthy  was,  in  his  opinion,  the 
most  intelligent  of  the  three,  as  she  had  been  to  school  and 
had  graduated  from  college.  He  had  confidence  in  educa- 
tion uplifting  people;  it  made  them  more  observing.  It 
helped  them  morally.  And  with  him  this  meant  much. 
He  was  very  critical  when  it  came  to  morals.  He 
had  studied  his  race  along  this  line,  and  he  was  very 
exacting;  because,  unfortunately  as  a  whole  their  stand- 
ard of  morals  were  not  so  high  as  it  should  be.  Of 
course  he  understood  that  the  same  began  back  in  the 
time  of  slavery.  They  had  not  been  brought  up  to  a  regard 
of  morality  in  a  higher  sense  and  they  were  possessed  with 
certain  weaknesses.  He  was  aware  that  in  the  days  of 
slavery  the  Negro  to  begin  with  had  had,  as  a  rule  only 
what  he  could  steal,  therefore  stealing  became  a  virtue. 
When  accused  as  he  naturally  was  sure  to  be,  he  had  re- 
sorted to  the  subtle  art  of  lying.  So  lying  became  an  ex- 
pedient. So  it  had  gone.  Then  he  came  down  to  the  point 
of  physical  morality. 

The  masters  had  so  often  the  slave  women,  lustful  by  dis- 
position, as  concubine.  He  had,  in  so  doing  of  course, 
mixed  the  races,  Jean  Baptiste  knew  until  not  more  than  one 
half  of  the  entire  race  in  America  are  without  some  trait  of 
Caucasian  blood.  There  had  been  no  defense  then,  and 
for  some  time  after.  There  was  no  law  that  exacted  pun- 
ishment for  a  master's  cohabitation  with  slave  women,  so 
it  had  grown  into  a  custom  and  was  practiced  in  the  South 
in  a  measure  still. 


MEMORIES  — N.  JUSTINE  McCARTHY      161 

So  with  freedom  his  race  had  not  gotten  away  from  these 
loose  practices.  They  were  given  still  to  lustful,  unde- 
pendable  habits,  which  he  at  times  became  very  impatient 
with.  His  version  was  that  a  race  could  not  rise  higher 
than  their  morals.  So  in  his  business  procedure  of  choosing 
a  wife,  one  thing  over  all  else  was  unalterable,  she  must 
be  chaste  and  of  high  morals. 

Orlean  McCarthy,  however  she  as  yet  appeared  from  a 
practical  standpoint,  could,  he  estimated  rightly,  boast  of 
this  virtue.  No  doubt  she  was  equally  as  high  in  all  other 
perquisites.  But  strangely  he  did  not  just  wish  to  ask  Miss 
McCarthy  to  become  his  wife.  He  could  not  understand 
it  altogether.  He  was  confident  that  no  girl  lived  who  per- 
haps was  likely,  as  likely,  to  conform  to  his  desires  as  she ; 
but  plan,  do  as  he  would,  that  lurking  aversion  still  re- 
mained —  infinitely  worse,  it  grew  to  a  fear. 

He  sighed  perceptibly,  and  Miss  Rankin,  catching  the 
same,  was  deeply  sympathetic  because  she  thought  it  was 
due  to  the  disappointment  he  felt  in  realizing  that  he  was 
not  to  see  Miss  Pitt  on  the  morrow.  She  placed  her  arm 
gently  about  his  shoulders,  leaned  her  small  head  close  to 
his,  and  stroked  his  hair  with  her  other  hand. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  after  a  time,  and  to  himself,  "  I  left  the 
West  to  find  a  wife.  I've  lived  out  there  alone  long 
enough.  I  want  a  home,  love  and  comfort  and  only  a  wife 
can  bring  that."  He  paused  briefly  in  his  mutterings.  His 
face  became  firm.  That  will  that  had  asserted  itself  and 
made  him  what  he  was  today,  became  uppermost.  He 
slowly  let  the  sentiment  out  of  him,  which  was  at  once 
mechanically  replaced  by  a  cold  set  purpose.  He  smiled 
then ;  not  a  sentimental  smile,  but  one  cold,  hard,  and 
singularly  dry. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Miss  Rankin,"  he  essayed,  rising,  ap- 


THE  HOMESTEADER 

parently  cheerful.  "  Do  you  happen  to  be  acquainted  with 
a  family  here  by  the  name  of  McCarthy?  " 

"McCarthy?" 

"  Yes.  I  think  the  man's  a  preacher.  A  Rev.  N.  J. 
McCarthy,  if  I  remember  correctly."  She  looked  up  at 
him.  Her  face  took  on  an  expression  of  defined  contempt 
as  she  grunted  a  reply. 

"Humph!" 

"  Well  .  .  ." 

"  Who  doesn't  know  that  old  rascal !  " 

"  Indeed !  "  he  echoed,  in  affected  surprise ;  but  in  the 
same  instant  he  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  to  hear  just  this. 
Still,  he  maintained  his  expression  of  surprise. 

"  The  worst  old  rascal  in  the  state  of  Illinois,"  she  pur- 
sued with  equal  contempt. 

"Oh,  really!" 

"  Really  —  yes,  positively!" 

"  I  cannot  understand  ?  " 

"  Oh  well,"  she  emitted,  vindictively.  "  You  won't  have 
to  inquire  far  to  get  the  record  of  N.  J.  McCarthy.  Lordy, 
no!  But  now,"  she  started  with  a  heightening  of  color, 
"  He's  got  a  nice  family.  Two  fine  girls,  Orlean  and  Ethel, 
and  his  wife  is  a  good  little  soul,  rather  helpless  and  with- 
out the  force  a  woman  should  have;  but  very  nice.  But 
that  husband  —  forget  him !  " 

"  This  is  —  er  —  rather  unusual,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  is,"  she  said.  "  One  would  naturally  suppose 
that  a  man  with  such  a  family  of  moral  girls  as  he  has, 
would  not  be  so  —  not  because  he  is  a  preacher."  She 
paused  thoughtfully.  "  Because  you  know  that  does  not 
count  for  a  high  morality  always  in  our  society.  .  .  .  But 
N.  J.  McCarthy  has  been  like  he  is  ever  since  I  knew  him. 
He's  a  rascal  of  the  deep  water  if  the  Lord  ever  made  one. 


MEMORIES  — N.  JUSTINE  McCARTHY      163 

And  such  a  hypocrite  —  there  never  lived!  Added  to  it, 
he  is  the  most  pious  old  saint  you  ever  saw !  Looks  just  as 
innocent  as  the  Christ  —  and  treats  his  wife  like  a  dog !  " 

"  Oh,  no !  " 

"  No !  "  disdainfully.  "  Well,  you'd  better  hush  I  "  She 
paused  again,  and  then  as  if  having  reconsidered  she  turned 
and  said :  "  I'll  not  say  any  more  about  him.  Indeed,  I 
don't  like  to  discuss  the  man  even.  He  is  the  very  embodi- 
ment of  rascalism,  deceit  and  hypocrisy.  Now,  I've  said 
enough.  Be  a  good  boy,  go  out  and  buy  me  some  cream." 
And  smilingly  she  got  his  hat  and  ushered  him  outside. 

"  Well,  now  what  do  you  think  of  that,"  he  kept  repeat- 
ing to  himself,  as  he  went  for  the  ice  cream,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  that?"  Suddenly  he  halted,  and  raised  his  hands 
to  his  head.  He  was  thinking,  thinking,  thinking  deeply, 
reflectively.  His  mind  was  going  back,  back,  away  back 
into  his  youth,  his  earliest  youth  —  no !  It  was  going  — 
had  gone  back  to  his  childhood ! 

"  N.  J.  McCarthy,  N.  J.  McCarthy?  Where  did  /  know 
you!  Where,  where,  where!"  His  head  was  throbbing, 
his  brain  was  struggling  with  something  that  happened  a 
long  time  before.  A  saloon  was  just  to  his  left,  and  into  it 
he  turned.  He  wanted  to  think ;  but  he  didn't  want  to  think 
too  fast.  He  took  a  glass  of  beer.  It  was  late  September, 
but  rather  warm,  and  when  the  cold  beverage  struck  his 
throat,  his  mind  went  back  into  its  yesterdays. 

It  had  happened  in  the  extremely  southern  portion  of  the 
state,  in  that  part  commonly  referred  to  as  "  Egypt,"  where 
he  then  lived.  He  recalled  the  incident  as  it  occurred  about 
twenty  years  before,  for  he  was  just  five  years  of  age  at 
the  time.  His  mother's  baby  boy  they  called  him,  because 
he  was  the  youngest  of  four  boys  in  a  large  family  of  chil- 
dren. It  was  a  day  in  the  autumn.  He  was  sure  of  this 


1 64  THE  HOMESTEADER 

because  his  older  brothers  had  been  hunting;  they  had 
caught  several  rabbits  and  shot  a  few  partridges.  He  had 
been  allowed  to  follow  for  the  first  time,  and  had  carried 
the  game.  .  .  .  How  distinctly  it  came  back  to  him  now. 

He  had  picked  the  feathers  from  the  quail,  and  had  held 
the  rabbits  while  his  brothers  skinned  them.  And,  later, 
they  had  placed  the  game  in  cold  water  from  their  deep  well, 
and  had  thereupon  placed  the  pan  holding  the  same  upon 
the  roof  of  the  summer  kitchen,  and  that  night  the  frost 
had  come.  And  when  morning  was  again,  the  ice  cold 
water  had  drawn  the  blood  -from  the  meat  of  the  game, 
and  the  same  was  clear  and  white. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  his  mother  said  to  him  the  following 
morning,  "  you  will  get  into  clean  cothes  and  stay  clean,  do 
you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mama,  I  understand,"  he  answered.  "  But,  mama, 
why  ?  "  he  inquired.  Jean  Baptiste  had  always  asked  such 
questions  and  for  his  doing  so  his  mother  had  always  re- 
buked him. 

"  You  will  ask  the  questions,  my  son,"  she  said,  raising 
his  child  body  in  her  arms  and  kissing  him  fondly.  "  But 
I  don't  mind  telling  you."  She  stood  him  on  the  ground 
then,  and  pointed  to  him  with  her  forefinger.  "  Because  we 
are  going  to  have  company  from  town.  Big  people.  The 
preachers.  Lots  of  them,  so  little  boys  should  be  good,  and 
clean,  and  be  scarce  when  the  preachers  are  around.  They 
are  big  men  with  no  time,  or  care,  to  waste  with  little  boys !  " 

"  M-um !  "  he  had  chimed. 

"  And,  why,  mama,  do  the  preachers  have  no  time  for 
little  boys?  Were  they  not  little  boys  once  themselves?" 

"  Now,  Jean!  "she  had  admonished  thereupon,  "  you  are 
entirely  too  inquisitive  for  a  little  boy.  There  will  be  other 
company,  also.  Teachers,  and  Mrs.  Winston,  do  you  un- 


MEMORIES  — N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY      165 

derstand !  So  be  good."  With  that  she  went  about  her 
dinner,  cooking  the  rabbits  and  the  quail  that  he  had 
brought  home  the  day  before. 

It  had  seemed  an  age  before,  in  their  spring  wagon  fol- 
lowed by  the  lumber  wagon,  the  dignitaries  of  the  occasion 
wheeled  into  the  yard.  He  could  not  recall  now  how  many 
preachers  there  were,  except  that  there  were  many.  He 
was  in  the  way,  he  recalled,  however,  because,  unlike  his 
other  brothers,  he  was  not  bashful.  But  the  preachers  did 
not  seem  to  see  him.  They  were  all  large  and  tall  and 
stout,  he  could  well  remember.  But  the  teachers  took 
notice  of  him.  One  had  caught  him  up  fondly,  kissed  him 
and  thereupon  carried  him  into  the  house  in  her  arms.  She 
talked  with  him  and  he  with  her.  And  he  could  well  recall 
that  she  listened  intently  to  all  he  told  her  regarding  his 
adventures  of  the  day  before  in  the  big  woods  that  was  at 
their  back.  How  beautiful  and  sweet  he  had  thought  she 
was.  When  she  smiled  she  showed  a  golden  tooth,  some- 
thing new  to  him,  and  he  did  not  understand  except  that 
it  was  different  from  anything  he  had  ever  seen  before. 

After  a  long  time,  he  thought,  dinner  was  called,  and,  as 
was  the  custom,  he  was  expected  to  wait.  He  had  very 
often  tried  to  reason  with  his  mother  that  he  could  sit  at 
the  corner  of  the  table  in  a  high  chair  and  eat  out  of  a 
saucer.  He  had  promised  always  to  be  good,  just  as  good 
as  he  could  be,  and  he  would  not  talk.  But  his  mother 
would  not  trust  him,  and  it  was  understood  that  he  should 
wait. 

At  the  call  of  dinner  he  slid  from  the  teacher's  lap  upon 
the  floor  and  went  outside.  He  peeped  through  the  window 
from  where  he  stood  on  a  block.  He  saw  them  eat,  and 
eat,  and  eat,  He  saw  the  quail  the  boys  had  shot  disappear 
one  after  another  into  the  mouths  of  the  big  preachers, 


1 66  THE  HOMESTEADER 

and  since  he  had  counted  and  knew  how  many  quail  there 
were,  he  had  watched  with  a  growing  fear.  "  Will  they  not 
leave  one  ?  "  he  cried. 

At  last,  when  he  could  endure  it  no  longer,  he  ran  into 
the  house,  walked  into  the  dining  room  unseen,  and  stood 
looking  on.  Now,  the  teacher  who  had  the  golden  tooth 
happened  to  turn  and  espy  him  and  thereupon  she  cried : 

"  Oh,  there  is  my  little  man,  and  I  know  he  is  hungry ! 
Where  did  you  go,  sweet  one?  Come,  now,  quick  to 
me,"  whereupon  she  held  out  loving  arms  into  which  he 
went  and  he  had  great  difficulty  in  keeping  back  the  tears. 
But  he  was  hungry,  and  he  had  seen  the  last  quail  taken 
from  the  plate  by  a  preacher  who  had  previously  taken  two. 

Upon  her  knee  she  had  sat  him,  and  he  looked  up  into 
all  the  faces  about.  He  then  looked  down  into  her  plate  and 
saw  a  half  of  quail.  His  anxious  eyes  found  hers,  and  then 
went  back  to  the  plate  and  the  half  of  quail  thereon. 

"  That  is  for  you,  sweetness/'  she  cried,  and  began  to 
take  from  the  table  other  good  things,  while  he  fell  to  eating, 
feeding  his  mouth  with  both  hands  for  he  was  never  before 
so  hungry. 

After  a  few  moments  he  happened  to  lift  his  eyes  from 
the  plate.  Just  to  the  side  of  the  beloved  teacher,  he  ob- 
served a  large,  tall  and  stout  preacher.  He  wore  a  jet 
black  suit  and  around  his  throat  a  clerical  vest  fit  closely; 
while  around  his  neck  he  wore  a  white  collar  hind  part 
before.  The  preacher's  eyes  had  found  Jean's  and  he  gave 
a  start.  The  eyes  of  the  other  were  upon  him,  and  they 
were  angry  eyes.  He  paused  in  his  eats  and  gazed  not  un- 
derstanding, into  the  eyes  that  were  upon  him.  Then  sud- 
denly he  recalled  that  he  had  observed  that  the  preacher 
had  been  smiling  upon  the  teacher.  He  had  laughed  and 
joked;  and  said  many  things  that  little  Jean  had  not  un- 


MEMORIES  — N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY      167 

derstood.  As  far  as  he  could  see,  it  appeared  as  if  the 
teacher  had  not  wished  it;  but  the  flirtation  had  been  kept 
up. 

At  last,  in  his  child  mind  he  had  understood.  His  crawl- 
ing upon  the  teacher's  lap  had  spoiled  it  all !  The  preacher 
was  angry,  therefore  the  expression  in  his  eyes. 

From  across  the  table  his  mother  stood  observing  him. 
She  seemed  not  to  know  what  to  say  or  do,  for  it  had 
always  been  so  very  hard  to  keep  this  one  out  of  grown 
people's  way.  So  she  continued  to  stand  hesitatingly. 

"  Didn't  your  mother  say  that  you  were  to  wait," 
growled  the  preacher,  and  his  face  was  darker  by  the  anger 
that  was  in  it.  This  frightened  Jean.  He  could  find  no 
answer  in  the  moment  to  such  words.  His  little  eyes  had 
then  sought  those  of  the  teacher,  who  in  reply  drew  him 
closely  to  her. 

"  Why,  Reverend,"  she  cried,  amazed,  "  he's  a  little  boy, 
a  nice  child,  and  hungry !  "  Whereupon  she  caressed  him 
again.  He  was  pacified  then,  and  his  eyes  held  some  fire 
when  he  found  the  preacher's  again.  The  others,  too,  had 
grown  more  evil.  The  preacher's  lips  parted.  He  leaned 
slightly  forward  as  he  said  lowly,  angrily: 

"  You're  an  impudent,  ill  mannered  little  boy,  and  you 
need  a  spanking !  " 

Then  suddenly  the  child  grew  strangely  angry.  He 
couldn't  understand.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  had  helped 
secure  the  quail,  all  of  which  the  preachers  were  eating,  and 
felt  that  in  view  of  this  he  was  entitled  to  a  piece  of  one. 
He  could  not  understand  afterward  how  he  had  said  it,  but 
he  extended  his  little  face  forward,  close  to  the  preacher's, 
as  he  poured : 

"  I  ain't  no  impudent  'ittle  boy,  either !  I  went  to  hunt 
with  my  brothers  yistidy  and  I  carried  all  the  game,  and 


1 68  THE  HOMESTEADER 

now  you  goin'  eat  it  all  and  leave  me  none  when  I'm  hungry. 
You're  mean  man  and  make  me  mad !  " 

As  he  spoke  everything  seemed  to  grow  dark  around  him. 
He  recalled  that  he  was  suddenly  snatched  from  the  teach- 
er's lap,  and  carried  to  the  summer  kitchen  which  was  all 
closed  and  dark  inside.  He  recalled  that  switches  were 
there,  and  that  soon  he  felt  them.  As  a  rule  he  cried  and 
begged  before  he  was  ever  touched;  but  strangely  then  he 
never  cried,  and  he  never  begged.  He  just  kept  his  mouth 
shut  tightly,  and  had  borne  all  the  pain  inflicted  by  his 
mother,  and  she  had  punished  him  longer  than  she  had  ever 
done  before.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  felt  she  had  to 
make  him  cry ;  felt  that  he  must  cry  else  he  had  not  repented. 
After  a  time  he  felt  terribly  dazed,  became  sleepy,  and 
gradually  fell  into  a  slumber  while  the  blows  continued 
to  fall. 

How  long  he  slept  he  could  not  remember,  but  gradually 
he  came  out  of  it.  There  were  no  more  blows  then.  Yet, 
his  little  body  felt  sore  all  over.  When  he  looked  up  (for 
he  was  lying  on  his  back  in  the  summer  kitchen),  his 
mother  sat  near  and  was  crying  and  wiping  the  tears  with 
her  apron,  while  over  him  bent  the  teacher,  and  she  was 
crying  also.  And  as  the  tears  had  fallen  unchecked  upon 
his  face  he  had  heard  the  teacher  saying : 

"  It's  a  shame,  an  awful  shame !  The  poor,  poor  little 
fellow!  He  was  hungry  and  had  helped  to  get  the  game. 
And  to  be  punished  so  severely  because  he  wanted  to  eat 
is  a  shame !  Oh,  Mrs.  Baptiste,  you  must  pray  to  your 
God  for  forgiveness ! "  And  his  mother  had  cried  more 
than  ever  then. 

Presently  he  heard  a  heavy  footfall,  and  peeped  upward 
to  see  his  father  standing  over  him.  His  father  was  fair  of 
complexion,  and  unlike  his  mother,  never  said  much  and 


MEMORIES  — N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY      169 

was  not  commonly  emotional.  But  when  he  was  angry  he 
was  terrible,  and  he  was  angry  now.  His  blue  eyes  shone 
like  fire. 

"  What  is  this,  Belle,"  he  cried  in  a  terrible  voice,  "  you've 
killed  my  boy  about  that  d — n  preacher ! "  His  father 
stooped  and  looked  closely  into  his  face.  In  fear  he  had 
opened  his  eyes.  "  Jean ! "  he  heard  his  father  breathe, 
"  God,  but  it's  a  blessing  you  are  alive,  or  there  would  be 
a  dead  preacher  in  that  house/' 

"  Oh,  Fawn,"  his  mother  cried  and  fell  on  him,  weeping. 
The  teacher  joined  in  to  pacify  him,  and  in  that  moment 
Jean  was  forgotten.  Stiffly  he  had  slipped  from  the  room, 
and  had  gone  around  near  the  kitchen  step  of  the  big 
house  to  a  place  where  the  dogs  had  their  bed.  Here  he 
kept  a  heavy  green  stick,  a  short  club.  He  passed  before 
the  door,  and  observed  the  preacher  still  sitting  at  the  table, 
talking  with  Mrs.  Winston.  He  glared  at  him  a  moment 
and  his  little  eyes  narrowed  to  mere  slits.  Then  he  thought 
of  something  else  ...  It  was  Mose  Allen,  Mose  Allen,  a 
hermit  who  lived  in  the  woods.  It  was  miles  —  in  his  mind 

—  to  where  Mose  lived,  through  heavy  forests  and  timber ; 
but  he  was  going  there,  he  was  going  there  to  stay  with  old 
Mose  and  live  in  the  woods.     He  had  done  nothing  wrong, 
yet  had  been  severely  punished.     Before  this  he  had  thought 
several  times  that  when  he  became  a  man  he  would  like  to 
be  a  preacher,  a  big  preacher,  and  be  admired ;  but,  now  — 
never !     He  would  go  to  old  Mose  Allen's,  live  in  the  woods 

—  and  hate  preachers  forever! 

Later,  deep  into  the  forest  he  plodded.  Deep,  deeper, 
until  all  about  him  he  was  surrounded  with  overgrowth, 
but  resolutely  he  struggled  onward.  He  crossed  a  branch 
presently,  and  knew  where  he  was.  The  branch  divided 
their  land  with  Eppencamp's,  the  German.  From  there  the 


THE  HOMESTEADER 

forest  grew  deeper,  the  trees  larger,  and  the  underbrush 
more  tangled.  But  he  was  going  to  Mose  Allen  and  re- 
membered that  that  was  the  way.  He  grasped  his  green 
club  tighter  and  felt  like  a  hunter  in  the  bear  stories  his 
big  brothers  had  read  to  him.  He  crossed  a  raise  between 
the  branch  and  the  creek  where  the  water  flowed  deeply, 
and  where  they  always  went  fishing.  He  paused  upon 
reaching  the  creek,  for  there  a  footlog  lay.  For  the  first 
time  he  experienced  a  slight  fear.  He  didn't  like  foot  logs, 
and  had  never  crossed  one  alone.  He  had  always  been 
carried  across  by  his  brothers;  but  his  brothers  were  not 
near,  and  he  was  running  away !  So  he  took  courage,  and 
approached  the  treacherous  bridge.  He  looked  down  at  the 
whirling  waters  below  with  some  awe;  but  finally  with  a 
grimace,  he  set  his  foot  on  the  slick  trunk  of  the  fallen  tree 
and  started  across.  He  recalled  then  that  if  one  looked 
straight  ahead  and  not  down  at  the  water,  it  was  easy; 
but  his  mind  was  so  much  on  the  waters  below.  He  kept 
his  eyes  elsewhere  with  great  effort,  and  finally  reached  the 
middle.  Now  it  seemed  that  he  could  not  go  one  step 
further  unless  he  saw  what  was  below  him.  He  hesitated, 
closed  his  eyes,  and  thought  of  the  whipping  he  had  re- 
ceived and  the  preacher  he  hated,  opened  them,  and  with 
calm  determination  born  of  anger,  crossed  safely  to  the  other 
side. 

He  sighed  long  and  deeply  when  he  reached  the  other 
side.  He  looked  back  at  the  muddy  waters  whirling  below, 
and  with  another  sigh  plunged  into  the  forest  again  and  on 
toward  Mose  Allen's. 

He  gained  the  other  side  of  the  forest  in  due  time,  and 
came  into  the  clearing.  A  cornfield  was  between  him  and 
another  forest,  and  almost  to  the  other  side  of  this  Mose 
Allen  lived.  The  sun  was  getting  low,  and  the  large  oaks 


MEMORIES  — N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY      171 

behind  him  cast  great  shadows  that  stretched  before  him 
and  far  out  into  the  cornfield.  He  thought  of  ghosts  and 
hurried  on.  He  must  reach  Mose  Allen's  before  night, 
that  was  sure. 

It  was  a  long  way  he  thought  when  he  reached  the  other 
side,  and  the  forest  before  him  appeared  ominous.  He  was 
inclined  to  be  frightened,  but  when  he  looked  toward  the 
west  and  home  he  saw  that  the  sun  had  sunk  and  he  plunged 
grimly  again  into  the  deep  woodland  before  him. 

Now  the  people  of  the  neighborhood  had  made  com- 
plaints, and  it  was  common  talk  about  the  country,  that 
chickens,  and  young  pigs,  and  calves  had  been  attacked  and 
destroyed  by  something  evil  in  the  forests.  At  night  this 
evil  spirit  had  stolen  out  and  ravaged  the  stock  and  the 
chickens. 

Accordingly,  those  interested  had  planned  a  hunt  for 
what  was  thought  to  be  a  catamount.  It  was  not  until  he 
had  gone  deeply  into  the  woods,  and  the  darkness  was  every- 
where about  him,  that  he  remembered  the  catamount.  He 
stopped  and  tried  to  pick  the  briers  out  of  his  bleeding 
hands,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  terrible  cry.  He  went 
cold  with  fear.  He  hardly  dared  breathe,  and  crouched 
in  a  hole  he  had  found  where  only  his  shoulders  and  head 
were  exposed.  He  awaited  with  abated  breath  for  some 
minutes  and  was  about  to  venture  out  when  again  the 
night  air  and  darkness  was  rent  by  the  terrible  cry.  He 
crouched  deeper  into  the  hole  and  trembled,  for  the  noise 
was  drawing  nearer.  On  and  on  it  came.  He  thought 
of  a  thousand  things  in  one  minute,  and  again  he  heard 
the  cry.  It  was  very  near  now,  and  he  could  hear  the 
crunch  of  the  animal's  feet  upon  the  dry  leaves.  And  still 
on  and  on  it  came.  Presently  it  was  so  close  that  he  could 
see  it.  The  body  of  the  beast  became  dimly  outlined  before 


172 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


him  and  he  could  see  the  eyes  plainly,  as  it  swung  its  head 
back  and  forth,  and  its  red  eyes  shone  like  coals  of  fire. 
Again  the  varmint  rent  the  night  air  with  its  yell,  as  it 
espied  its  prey  crouching  in  the  hole. 

By  watching  the  eyes  he  observed  the  head  sink  lower 
and  lower  until  it  almost  touched  the  earth.  And  there- 
upon he  became  suddenly  calm  and  apprehensive.  He  held 
his  breath  and  met  it  calmly,  face  to  face.  His  club  was 
drawn,  his  eyes  were  keen  and  intense.  He  waited.  Sud- 
denly the  air  was  rent  with  another  death  rendering  cry, 
and  the  beast  sprung. 

It  had  reckoned  well,  but  so  had  he.  He  had,  more- 
over, struck  direct.  The  blow  caught  the  beast  on  the 
point  of  its  nose  and  muffled  and  spoiled  its  directed  spring. 
He  quickly  came  out  of  the  hole  and  then,  before  the  ani- 
mal could  get  out  of  his  reach,  he  struck  it  again  with  such 
force  at  the  back  of  the  head,  that  the  beast  was  stunned. 
Again  and  again  he  struck  until  the  head  was  like  a  bag 
of  bones.  When  his  strength  was  gone,  and  all  was  quiet, 
he  became  conscious  of  a  drowsiness.  He  sank  down  and 
laid  his  head  upon  the  body  of  the  dead  animal,  and  fell  into 
a  deep  sleep. 

And  there  they  found  him  during  the  early  hours  of 
the  morning  and  took  him  and  the  dead  catamount  home. 

"  Another  beer,  Cap'n  ?  "  he  heard  from  the  bartender. 
He  quickly  stood  erect  and  gazed  about  in  some  confusion. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  throwing  a  coin  upon  the  bar.  He 
drank  the  beer  quickly,  went  out,  bought  Miss  Rankin  the 
cream  and  after  delivering  it  to  her,  went  outside  again 
and  up  State  Street. 

He  was  overcome  with  memories,  was  Jean  Baptiste.  He 
had  a  task  to  accomplish.  He  was  going  to  Vernon  Avenue 


MEMORIES  —  N.  JUSTINE  McCARTHY      173 

where  Miss  McCarthy  lived  to  ask  her  to  become  his  wife. 
And  the  preacher  who  had  been  the  cause  of  his  severe 
punishment  twenty  years  before  was  her  father,  the  Rev. 
N.  J.  McCarthy. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ORLEAN 

<4y^^H,  MAMA,"  cried  Orlean  E.  McCarthy,  coming 

•  I  hastily  from  the  hallway  into  the  room  where 
^-^  her  mother  sat  sewing,  and  handing  her  a  note, 
"  Mr.  Baptiste  is  in  the  city  and  wishes  to  call  at  the  earliest 
possible  convenience." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  her  mother,  affecting  a  serious  ex- 
pression, "  this  is  rather  sudden.  Have  you  sent  him  word 
when  he  could  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mama,  I  wrote  him  a  note  and  returned  it  by  the 
boy  that  brought  this  one,  that  he  could  call  at  two  o'clock/' 
Her  mother's  gaze  sought  the  clock  automatically. 

"  And  it  is  now  past  one,"  she  replied.  "  You  will  have 
to  get  ready  to  receive  him,"  she  advised  ceremoniously. 

"  All  right,  mama,"  said  Orlean  cheerfully,  and  suddenly 
bending  forward,  kissed  her  mother  impulsively  upon  the 
cheek,  and  a  moment  later  hurried  upstairs. 

"  What  is  this  I  hear  about  somebody  coming  to  call," 
inquired  another,  coming  into  the  room  at  that  moment. 
Mrs.  McCarthy  looked  up  on  recognizing  the  voice  of  her 
younger  daughter,  Ethel,  who  now  stood  before  her.  She 
gave  a  perceptible  start  as  she  did  so,  and  swallowed  before 
she  replied.  In  the  meantime  the  other  stood,  regarding 
her  rather  severely,  as  was  her  nature. 

She  was  very  tall,  was  Ethel,  and  because  she  was  so 
very  thin  she  appeared  really  taller  than  she  was.  She  did 


ORLEAN  175 

not  resemble  her  mother,  who  was  a  dumpy  light  brown 
skinned  woman.  She  was  part  Indian,  and  possessed  a 
heavy  head  of  hair  which,  when  let  down,  fell  over  her 
shoulders. 

Ethel,  on  the  other  hand,  was  somewhat  darker,  had  a 
thin  face,  with  hair  that  was  thick,  but  rather  short  and 
bushy.  Her  eyes  were  small  and  dark,  out  of  which  she 
never  seemed  to  look  straight  at  one.  They  appeared 
always  to  be  lurking  and  without  any  expression,  unless  it 
was  an  expression  of  dislike.  Forsooth,  she  was  a  known 
disagreeable  person,  ostentatious,  pompous,  and  hard  to  get 
along  with. 

She  was  a  bride  of  a  few  weeks  and  was  then  resting 
after  a  short  honeymoon  spent  in  Racine,  Wisconsin,  sixty 
miles  north  of  Chicago. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Baptiste  is  coming.  Coming  to  call  on  your 
sister.  He  has  been  corresponding  with  her  for  some  time, 
you  understand,"  her  mother  returned  in  her  mild,  trained 
manner. 

"  Oh !  "  echoed  Ethel,  apparently  at  a  loss  whether  to  be 
pleased  or  displeased.  She  was  as  often  one  way  as  the 
other,  so  her  mother  was  apprehensive  of  something  more. 

"  I  think  you  have  met  him,  have  you  not  ?  "  her  mother 
inquired. 

"Yes,  I've  met  him,"  admitted  Ethel.  "Last  winter 
while  teaching." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  him,  my  dear?  " 

"  Well,  he  has  some  ways  I  don't  like." 

"  What  ways,  please  ? "  She  had  started  to  say 
"  naturally"  but  thought  better  of  it. 

"  Oh,  he  does  not  possess  the  dignity  I  like  in  a  man. 
Struck  me  as  much  too  commonplace." 

"  Oh,"  her  mother  grunted.     She  was  acquainted  with 


i;6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

Ethel's  disposition,  which  was  extremely  vain.  She  loved 
pomp  and  ceremony,  and  admired  very  few  people. 

"  What's  he  calling  to  see  Orlean  for  ?  " 

Her  mother  looked  up  in  some  surprise.  She  regarded 
her  daughter  keenly.  "  Why,  my  dear !  Why  do  you  ask 
such  a  question!  Why  do  young  men  call  to  see  any 
young  ladies  ?  "  Both  turned  at  this  moment  to  see  Orlean 
coming  down  the  stairway,  and  attention  was  fastened  upon 
her  following. 

"  All '  dolled '  up  to  meet  your  farmer,"  commented  Ethel 
with  a  touch  of  envy  in  her  voice.  In  truth  she  was  en- 
vious. Her  husband  was  just  an  ordinary  fellow  —  that  is, 
he  was  largely  what  she  was  making  of  him.  It  was  said 
that  she  had  found  no  other  man  who  was  willing  to  tolerate 
her  evil  temper  and  that,  perhaps,  was  why  she  had  married 
him.  While  with  him,  he  had  been  anxious  to  marry  her 
to  satisfy  his  social  ambition.  Although  an  honest,  hard- 
working fellow,  he  had  come  of  very  common  stock.  From 
the  backwoods  of  Tennessee  where  his  father  had  been  a 
crude,  untrained  preacher,  he  had  come  to  Chicago  and  had 
met  and  married  her  after  a  courtship  of  six  years. 

"  You  look  very  nice,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  address- 
ing Orlean.  Between  the  two  children  there  was  a  great 
difference.  Although  older,  Orlean  was  by  far  the  more 
timid  by  disposition.  An  obedient  girl  in  every  way,  she 
had  never  been  known  to  cross  her  parents,  and  had  the 
happy  faculty  of  making  herself  generally  liked,  while  Ethel 
invited  disfavor. 

She  was  not  so  tall  as  Ethel,  and  while  not  as  short  as 
her  mother,  she  was  heavier  than  either.  She  was  the  im- 
age of  her  father  who  was  dark,  although  not  black.  After 
her  mother  she  had  taken  her  hair,  which,  while  not  as 
fine,  was  nevertheless  heavy,  black  and  attractive.  Her  eyes 


ORLEAN  177 

were  dark  like  .her  mother's,  which  were  coal  black.  They 
were  small  and  tender.  Her  expression  was  very  frank; 
but  she  had  inherited  her  mother's  timidness  and  was  sub- 
servient unto  her  father,  and  in  a  measure  unto  her  younger 
sister,  Ethel. 

She  was  a  year  older  than  the  man  who  was  coming  to 
see  her,  and  had  never  had  a  beau. 

"  Do  I  look  all  right,  mama  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  so  that 
she  might  be  seen  all  around. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  the  other  replied.  She  always  used  the 
term  "my  dear."  She  had  been  trained  to  say  that  when 
she  was  a  young  wife,  and  had  never  gotten  out  of  the 
habit. 

"  Now  sit  down,  my  daughter,"  she  said  judiciously,  "  and 
before  the  young  man  comes  to  call  on  you,  tell  me  all  about 
him." 

"  Yes,  and  leave  out  nothing,"  interposed  Ethel. 

"  She  is  talking  to  your  mother,  Ethel.  You  will  do  her  a 
favor  by  going  to  your  room  until  it  is  over,"  advised  their 
mother. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  I'm  not  wanted,  then  I'll  go,"  spit  out  Ethel 
wickedly,  whereupon  she  turned  and  hastened  up  the  stairs 
to  her  room  and  slammed  the  door  behind  her. 

"  Ethel  has  such  a  temper,"  her  mother  sighed  deplor- 
ingly.  "  She  is  so  different  from  you,  dear.  You  are  like 
your  mother,  while  she  —  well,  she  has  her  father's  ways." 

"  Papa  is  not  as  mean  as  Ethel,"  defended  Orlean,  ever 
obedient  to  her  mother,  yet  always  upholding  her  father, 
it  mattered  not  what  the  issue. 

Her  mother  sighed  again,  shifted  in  her  chair,  and  said 
no  more  on  that  subject.  She  knew  the  father  better  than 
Orlean,  and  would  not  argue.  She  had  been  trained  not 
to.  . 


I78  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Now  where  did  you  meet  Mr.  Baptiste,  my  dear?"  she 
began. 

"  Where  I  taught  last  winter,  mother,"  she  replied  obedi- 
ently. 

"  And  how  did  you  come  to  meet  him,  daughter  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  was  calling  on  a  girl  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
happened  along  while  he  was  there,  and  the  girl  introduced 
us." 

"  M-m.     Was  that  the  first  time  you  had  seen  him  ?  " 

"  No,  I  had  met  him  on  the  street  when  he  was  on  the 
way  down  there." 

"  I  see.     Did  he  speak  to  you  on  the  street  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  mother.     He  did  not  know  me." 

"  But  he  might  have  spoken  anyhow.  .  .  ." 

"  But  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  he  never  spoke."  She 
paused  briefly,  and  then,  her  voice  a  trifle  lower,  said :  "Of 
course  he  looked  at  me.  But  — " 

"  Well,  any  man  would  do  that.  We  must  grant  that 
men  are  men.  How  were  you  impressed  with  him  when 
you  met  him  later  at  this  friend's  house  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Orlean  hesitatingly. 
"  He  seemed  to  be  a  great  talker,  was  very  commonplace, 
dressed  nicely  but  not  showily.  He  knew  quite  a  few  people 
in  Chicago  that  we  know,  and  was  born  near  the  town  in 
which  I  met  him.  He  was  just  returning  from  New  York, 
and  —  well,  I  rather  admired  him.  He  is  far  above  the 
average  colored  man,  I  can  say." 

"  M-m,"  her  mother  mused  thoughtfully,  and  with  an  air 
of  satisfaction.  She  couldn't  think  of  anything  more  to 
say  just  then,  and  upon  looking  at  the  clock  which  showed 
ten  minutes  of  two,  she  said :  "  Well,  you  had  better  go  in 
the  parlor,  and  after  he  has  called,  when  convenient,  call 
me  and  permit  me  to  meet  him.  You  will  be  careful,  my 


ORLEAN  179 

dear,  and  understand  that  we  have  raised  you  to  be  a 
lady,  and  exercise  your  usual  dignity." 

"  Yes,  mama." 

On  the  hour  the  street  door  bell  was  pulled  with  a  jerk, 
and  arising,  Orlean  went  toward  the  door  expectantly. 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,"  she  cried,  a  moment  later,  her  face 
lighted  with  a  radiant  smile  as  she  extended  her  hand  and 
allowed  it  to  rest  in  that  of  Jean  Baptiste's. 

"  Miss  McCarthy,"  he  cried,  with  her  hand  in  one  of  his, 
and  his  hat  in  the  other,  he  entered  the  door. 

"  May  I  take  your  hat  ?  "  asked  Orlean,  and  taking  it, 
placed  it  on  the  hall  tree.  In  the  meantime,  his  habitually 
observing  eyes  were  upon  her,  and  when  she  turned  she 
found  him  regarding  her  closely. 

"  Come  right  into  the  parlor,  please,  Mr.  Baptiste,  and  be 
seated."  She  hesitated  between  the  davenport  and  the 
chairs;  while  he,  without  ado,  chose  the  davenport  and  be- 
came seated,  and  the  look  he  turned  upon  her  commanded 
more  than  words  that  she,  too,  be  seated.  With  a  little 
hesitation,  she  finally  sank  on  the  davenport  at  a  conven- 
tional distance,  beside  him. 

"  I  was  not  certain,  judging  by  your  last  letter,  just  when 
you  would  get  here,"  she  began  timidly.  He  regarded  her 
out  of  his  searching  eyes  attentively.  He  was  weighing  her 
in  the  balance.  He  saw  in  those  close  glances  what  kind 
of  a  girl  she  was,  apparently,  for,  after  a  respite,  he  re- 
laxed audibly,  but  kept  his  eyes  on  her  nevertheless. 

"  I  was  not  certain  myself,"  he  said.  "  I  am  so  rushed 
these  days  that  I  do  not  know  always  just  what  comes 
next.  But  I  am  glad  that  I  am  here  at  last  —  and  to  see 
you  looking  so  well." 

They  exchanged  the  usual  words  about  the  weather,  and 
other  conventional  notes,  and  then  she  called  her  mother. 


180  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Mama,  I  wish  you  to  meet  Mr.  Baptiste.  Mr.  Baptiste, 
this  is  my  mother." 

"  Mr.  Baptiste,"  said  her  mother,  giving  him  her  hand, 
"  I  am  glad  to  know  you." 

"  The  same  here,  madam,"  he  returned  cheerfully. 
"  Guess  your  health  is  good !  " 

"  Very  good,  I'm  glad  to  say." 

They  talked  for  a  time,  and  all  were  cheered  to  find 
themselves  so  agreeable. 

"  I  think  I  can  slightly  recall  your  people,  Mr.  Baptiste," 
her  mother  remarked,  thoughtfully.  "  My  husband,  Dr. 
McCarthy,"  she  said,  giving  him  an  honorary  term,  "  pas- 
tored  the  church  in  the  town  near  where  you  were  born, 
many  years  ago." 

"  I  do  say,"  he  echoed  non-commitally. 

"  Do  you  recall  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  appeared  to  be  thinking.  .  .  .  He  hardly  knew  what 
to  say,  then,  after  some  deliberation  he  brightened  and 
said :  "  I  think  I  do.  I  was  very  young  then,  but  I  think 
I  do  recall  your  husband.  .  .  ." 

"  Your  name  —  the  name  of  your  family  has  always  re- 
mained in  my  mind,"  said  she  then,  reflectively. 

"  Indeed.     It  is  a  rather  peculiar  name." 

"  It  is  so,  I  should  say,"  she  cried.  "  If  it  is  quite  fair, 
may  I  ask  where  or  how  your  father  came  by  such  a 
name?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  simple.  My  father,  of  course,  was  born  a 
slave  like  most  —  almost  all  Negroes  previous  to  the  war  — 
and  took  the  name  from  his  master  who  I » suppose  was  of 
French  descent." 

"  Oh,  that  explains  it.  Of  course  that  is  natural.  M-m ; 
but  it's  a  beautiful  name,  I  must  say." 

He  smiled. 


ORLEAN  181 

"  It  is  an  illustrious  name,  also,"  she  commented  further. 

"  But  the  man  who  carries  it  in  this  instance,  is  much  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding,"  he  laughed  depreciatingly. 

"  It  is  a  very  beautiful  day  without,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
addressing  her  daughter,  "  and  perhaps  Mr.  Baptiste  might 
like  to  walk  out  and  see  some  of  the  town." 

"  I  most  assuredly  would,"  he  cried,  glad  of  something 
for  a  change.  He  was  restless,  and  estimated  that  if  he 
felt  the  air,  with  her  at  his  side,  it  might  help  him. 

Orlean  arose,  went  upstairs,  and  returned  shortly  wear- 
ing a  large  hat  that  set  off  her  features.  He  rather  liked 
her  under  it,  and  when  they  walked  down  the  street 
together,  he  was  conscious  of  an  air  of  satisfaction. 

"  Where  would  you  like  to  go  ?  "  she  asked  as  they  neared 
the  intersection. 

"  For  a  car  ride  on  the  elevated,"  he  replied  promptly. 

"  Then  we  will  go  right  down  this  street.  This  is  Thirty- 
third,  and  there's  an  elevated  station  a  few  blocks  from 
here." 

They  walked  along  leisurely,  she  listening  attentively, 
while  he  talked  freely  of  the  West,  his  life  there  and  what 
he  was  doing.  When  they  reached  the  L.  he  assisted  her 
upstairs  to  the  station,  and  in  so  doing  touched  her  arm  for 
the  first  time.  The  contact  gave  him  a  slight  sensation  but 
he  felt  more  easy  when  they  had  entered  the  car  and  taken 
a  seat  together.  A  moment  later  they  were  gazing  out  over 
the  great  city  below  as  the  cars  sped  through  the  air. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  they  returned,  and  she  invited 
him  to  dinner.  He  accepted  and  thereupon  met  Ethel  and 
her  husband. 

Ethel  was  all  pomp  and  ceremony,  while  her  husband, 
with  his  cue  from  her,  acted  in  the  same  manner,  and  they 
rather  bored  Jean  Baptiste  with  their  airs.  He  was  glad 


THE  HOMESTEADER 

when  the  meal  was  over.  He  followed  Orlean  back  to  the 
parlor,  where  they  took  a  seat  on  the  davenport  again,  and 
drew  closer  to  her  this  time.  Soon  she  said :  "  Do  you 
play?" 

"  Lord,  no !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  but  I  shall  be  glad  to  listen 
to  you." 

"  I  can't  play  much,"  she  said  modestly ;  "  but  I  will 
play  what  little  I  know."  Thereupon  she  became  seated 
and  played  and  sang,  he  thought,  very  well.  After  she 
had  played  a  few  pieces,  she  turned  and  looked  up  at  him, 
and  he  caught  the  full  expression  of  her  eyes.  He  could 
see  that  they  were  tender  eyes ;  eyes  behind  which  there  was 
not  apparently  the  force  of  will  that  he  desired ;  but  Orlean 
McCarthy  was  a  fine  girl.  She  was  fine  because  she  was 
not  wicked;  because  she  was  intelligent  and  had  been  care- 
fully reared;  she  was  fine  because  she  had  never  cultivated 
the  society  of  undesirable  or  common  people;  but  she  was 
not  a  fine  girl  because  she  had  a  great  mind,  or  great 
ability;  or  because  she  had  done  anything  illustrious.  And 
this  Jean  Baptiste,  a  judge  of  human  nature  could  readily 
see ;  but  he  would  marry  her,  he  would  be  good  to  her ;  and 
she  would,  he  hoped,  never  have  cause  to  regret  having 
married  him.  And  thereupon  he  bent  close  to  her,  took 
her  chin  in  his  hand  and  kissed  her  upon  the  lips.  She 
turned  away  when  he  had  done  this.  In  truth  she  was 
not  expecting  such  from  him  and  knew  not  just  how  to 
accept  it.  Her  lips  burned  with  a  new  sensation;  she  had 
a  peculiar  feeling  about  the  heart.  She  arose  and  went  to 
the  piano  and  her  fingers  wandered  idly  over  the  keys  as 
she  endeavored  to  still  her  beating  heart. 

Shortly  she  felt  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and  she 
turned  to  hear  him  say : 


ORLEAN  183 

"  Won't  you  come  back  into  the  parlor  ?  I  —  would  like 
to  speak  to  you  ?  " 

She  consented  without  hesitation,  and  arising  followed 
him  timidly  back  to  the  seat  they  had  occupied  a  few  minutes 
before.  Again  seated  he  drew  closely  but  did  not  deign 
to  place  his  arm  about  her,  looked  toward  the  rear  of  the 
house  where  the  others  were,  and,  seeing  that  the  doors 
were  closed  between  them,  sighed  lightly  and  turned  to  her. 

"  Now,  Miss  McCarthy,"  he  began,  evenly.  "  I  am  going 
to  say  something  to  you  that  I  have  never  said  to  a  woman 
before."  He  paused  while  she  waited  with  abated  breath. 

"  I  haven't  known  you  long ;  but  that  is  not  the  point. 
What  I  should  say  is,  that  in  view  of  our  brief  corre- 
spondence, it  will  perhaps  appear  rather  bold  of  me  to  say 
what  I  wish  to.  Yet,  there  comes  a  time  in  life  when  cir- 
cumstances alter  cases. 

"  Now,  to  be  frank,  I  have  always  regarded  matrimony  as 
a  business  proposition,  and  while  sentiment  is  a  very  great 
deal  in  a  way,  business  considerations  should  be  the  first 
expedient/'  She  was  all  attention.  She  was  peculiarly 
thrilled.  It  was  wonderful  to  listen  to  him,  she  thought, 
and  not  for  anything  would  she  interrupt  him.  But  what 
did  he  mean ;  what  was  he  going  to  say. 

"Well,  I,  Miss  McCarthy,  need  a  wife.  I  want  a  wife; 
but  my  life  has  not  been  lived  where  social  intercourse  with 
girls  of  my  race  has  been  afforded,  as  you  might  under- 
stand." She  nodded  understandingly,  sympathetically. 
Her  woman's  nature  was  to  sympathize,  and  what  she  did 
was  only  natural  with  all  women. 

"  It  has  not  been  my  privilege  to  know  any  girl  of  my 
race  intimately;  I  am  not,  as  I  sit  here  beside  you  able  to 
conscientiously,  or  truly,  go  to  one  and  say :  '  I  love  you, 


1 84  THE  HOMESTEADER 

dear,  and  want  you  to  be  my  wife/  in  the  conventional 
sense.  Therefore,  can  I  be  forgiven  if  I  say  to  you;  if  I 
ask  you,  Miss  McCarthy,"  and  so  saying,  he  turned  to  her, 
his  face  serious,  "  to  become  my  wife  ?  " 

He  had  paused,  and  her  soul  was  afire.  Was  this  a 
proposal  or  was  it  a  play?  For  a  time  she  was  afraid  to 
say  anything.  She  wouldn't  say  no,  and  she  was  afraid  to 
say  yes,  until  —  well,  until  she  was  positive  that  he  had 
actually  asked  her  to  marry  him.  As  it  was,  she  hesitated. 
But  it  was  so  wonderful  she  thought.  It  was  so  beautiful  to 
be  so  near  such  a  wonderful  young  man,  such  a  strong  young 
man.  The  young  men  she  had  known  had  not  been  like  this 
one.  And,  really,  she  wanted  to  marry.  She  was  twenty- 
six,  and  since  her  sister  had  married,  she  had  found  life 
lonely.  To  be  a  man's  wife  and  go  and  live  alone  with  him 
must  be  wonderful.  She  was  a  reader,  and  he  had  sent  her 
books.  In  all  books  and  life  and  everything  there  was  love. 
And  love  always  had  its  climax  in  a  place  where  one  lived 
alone  with  a  man.  Oh,  glorious !  She  was  ready  to  listen 
to  anything  he  had  to  say. 

"  Now,  I  do  not  profess  love  to  you,  Miss  McCarthy,  in 
trying  to  make  this  clear.  I  could  not,  and  be  truthful. 
And  I  have  always  tried  to  be  truthful.  Indeed,  I  could 
not  feel  very  happy,  I  am  sure,  unless  I  was  truthful.  To 
pretend  that  which  I  am  not  is  hypocrisy,  and  I  despise  a 
hypocrite.  I  am  an  owner  of  land  in  the  West,  and  I  be- 
lieve you  will  agree  with  me,  that  it  behooves  any  Negro 
to  acquire  all  he  can.  We  are  such  a  race  of  paupers! 
We  own  so  little,  and  have  such  little  prestige.  Thankfully, 
I  am  at  present,  on  the  high  road  to  success,  and,  because 
of  that,  I  want  a  wife,  a  dear,  kind  girl  as  a  mate,  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world."  She  nodded  unaware.  What 
he  was  saying  had  not  been  said  to  her  in  that  way ;  but  the 


ORLEAN  185 

way  he  said  it  was  so  much  to  the  point.  She  had  not  been 
trained  to  observe  that  which  was  practical;  indeed,  her 
father  was  regarded  as  a  most  impractical  man;  but  she 
liked  this  man  beside  her  now,  and  was  anxious  for  him  to 
go  on.  He  did. 

"  I  own  520  acres  of  very  valuable  land,  and  have  con- 
summated a  deal  for  480  more  acres.  This  land  is  divided 
into  tracts  of  160  acres  each,  and  must  be  homesteaded  be- 
fore the  same  is  patented. 

"  Now,  my  grandmother,  and  also  a  sister  are  already  in 
the  West,  and  will  homestead  on  two  places.  The  other,  I 
have  arranged  for  you.  The  proceeding  is  simple.  It  will 
be  necessary  only  for  you  to  journey  out  West,  file  on  this 
land  as  per  my  directions,  after  which  we  can  be  married 
any  time  after,  and  we  can  then  live  together  on  your 
claim.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  she  said  a  bit  falteringly. 

"  Now,  my  dear,  do  not  feel  that  I  am  a  charter  bar- 
terer;  we  can  simply  acquire  a  valuable  tract  of  land  by 
this  process  and  be  as  we  would  under  any  other  circum- 
stances. Once  you  were  out  there  all  would  be  very  plain 
to  you,  but  at  this  distance,  it  is  perhaps  foreign  to  you,  that 
I  understand." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  trustingly.  Right  then  she 
wanted  him  to  kiss  her.  It  was  all  so  irregular;  but  he 
was  a  man  and  she  a  maid,  and  she  had  never  had  a  love. 
.  .  .  He  seemed  to  understand,  and  passionately  he  caught 
her  to  him,  and  kissed  her  many,  many  times. 

It  was  all  over  then,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  She 
had  not  said  yes  or  no  with  words,  but  her  lips  had  been  her 
consent,  and  she  knew  she  would  love  him.  It  was  the 
happiest  hour  in  the  simple  life  she  had  lived,  and  she  was 
ready  to  become  his  forever. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  PROPOSAL;  A  PROPOSITION;  A  CERTAIN  MRS.  PRUITT— * 
AND  A  LETTER 

«t  y^^V  H,  MAMA,  Mr.  Baptiste  has  asked  me  to  marry 
1  him,"  cried  Orlean,  rushing  into  the  room  and  to 
^-^    the  bed  where  her  mother  lay  reading,  after  Jean 
Baptiste  had  left. 

"  Why,  my  child,  this  —  this  is  rather  sudden,  is  it  not  ? 
Mr.  Baptiste  has  known  you  only  a  few  months  and  has 
been  corresponding  with  you  just  a  little  while,"  her  mother 
said  with  some  excitement,  suddenly  sitting  erect  in  the  bed. 

"  Yes,  mama,  what  you  say  is  true,  but  he  explained.  He 
said  —  well,  I  can't  quite  explain,  but  he  —  he  wants  to 
marry  me,  mama,  and  you  know  —  well,  mama,  you  under- 
stand, don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  All  girls  want  husbands,  but  it  must 
be  regular.  So  take  off  your  clothes,  dear,  get  into  bed 
and  tell  me  just  what  Mr.  Baptiste  did  say." 

The  other  did  as  instructed,  and  as  best  she  could,  tried 
to  make  plain  what  Jean  had  said  to  her  regarding  the  land 
and  all.  She  didn't  make  it  very  plain,  and  the  matter 
rather  worried  her,  but  the  fact  that  he  had  asked  her 
to  marry  him,  was  uppermost  in  her  mind,  and  she  finally 
went  to  sleep  happier  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life 
before. 

"  Now,  when  the  young  man  calls  today,  you  will  have 
him  take  his  business  up  with  me,"  her  mother  instructed 
judiciously  the  following  morning. 

186 


A  PROPOSAL  AND  A  LETTER  187 

"  He  will  explain  it  all,  mama.  He  can  do  so  very 
easily/'  she  said,  glad  to  be  relieved  of  the  difficult  task. 
Yet  she  bad  her  worries  withal.  Her  mother  was  a  very 
difficult  person  to  explain  anything  to ;  besides,  Orlean  knew 
her  mother  was  in  constant  fear  of  her  father  who  was  a 
Presiding  Elder,  traveling  over  the  southern  part  of  the 
state,  and  who  came  into  the  city  only  every  few  months. 
And  if  her  mother  was  hard  to  make  understand  anything, 
her  father  was  worse  —  and  business,  he  knew  next  to  noth- 
ing about  although  he  was  then  five  and  fifty. 

Jean  Baptiste  had  accomplished  a  great  many  more  diffi- 
cult tasks  than  explaining  to  his  prospective  mother-in-law 
in  regard  to  the  land.  When  she  seemed  to  have  sensed 
what  it  all  meant,  he  observed  that  she  would  give  a  peculiar 
little  start,  and  he  would  have  to  try  it  all  over  again.  In 
truth  she  understood  better  than  she  appeared  to ;  but  it  was 
the  girl's  father  whom  she  feared  to  anger  —  for  in  all 
her  life  she  had  never  been  able  to  please  him. 

But  she  found  a  way  out  along  late  that  afternoon  when 
a  caller  was  announced. 

The  visitor  was  a  woman  possessed  of  rare  wits,  and  of 
all  the  people  that  Mrs.  McCarthy  disliked,  and  of  all  who 
disliked  Mrs.  McCarthy,  Mrs.  Pruitt  was  the  most  pro- 
nounced. Yet,  it  was  Mrs.  Pruitt  who  settled  the  difficulty 
and  saved  the  day  for  Orlean  and  Jean  Baptiste.  But  as  to 
why  Mrs.  Pruitt  should  dislike  Mrs.  McCarthy,  and  Mrs. 
McCarthy  should  dislike  Mrs.  Pruitt,  there  is  a  story  that 
was  known  among  all  their  friends  and  acquaintances. 

When  Miss  Rankin  had  said  what  she  did  about  Rev. 
N.  J.  McCarthy,  she  had  not  told  all,  nor  had  she  referred 
to  any  woman  in  particular.  She  was  not  a  scandal  monger. 
But  she  knew  as  all  Chicago  knew,  that  in  so  far  as  the 
parties  in  question  were  concerned  there  was  a  friendship 


1 88  THE  HOMESTEADER 

between  Mrs.  Pruitt  and  the  Reverend  that  was  rather  sub- 
tle, and  had  been  for  years.  And  it  was  this  which  caused 
the  two  mentioned  to  dislike  each  other  with  an -unspoken 
hatred. 

But  Mrs.  McCarthy  trusted  Orlean's  going  eight  hun- 
dred miles  west  to  file  on  a  homestead,  and  what  might 
come  of  it,  to  Mrs.  Pruitt  rather  than  to  herself.  While  she 
could  —  was  aware  of  it  —  she  did  not  dare  venture  any- 
thing to  the  contrary  where  it  might  come  back  to  her  hus- 
band's ears,  she  knew  Mrs.  Pruitt  had  more  influence  with 
her  husband  than  had  she.  .  .  .  Therefore  when  she  in- 
vited Jean  Baptiste  to  meet  Mrs.  Pruitt,  who  had  met  him 
years  before,  she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

It  was  over  in  a  few  hours.  Mrs.  Pruitt  would  accom- 
pany Orlean  to  the  West  and  back,  with  Jean  Baptiste  pay- 
ing expenses,  and  preparations  were  made  thereto. 

In  two  days  they  had  reached  Gregory  where  the  great 
land  excitement  was  on.  From  over  all  the  country  people 
had  gathered,  and  the  demand  for  the  land  had  reached 
its  greatest  boom  since  Jean  Baptiste  had  come  to  the 
country. 

His  sister  and  grandmother  had  arrived  during  his  ab- 
sence, and,  after  greeting  them,  he  was  handed  a  letter, 
•which  read : 

My  dear  Mr.  Baptiste: 

Your  most  delightful  letter  was  received  by  me  today,  and 
that  you  may  see  just  how  much  I  appreciate  it,  I  am  an- 
swering at  once  and  hope  you  will  receive  the  same  real 
soon. 

To  begin  with :  the  reason  I  have  not  answered  sooner  is 
quite  obvious.  I  was  away  on  a  short  visit,  and  only  re- 
turned home  today,  to  find  that  your  most  interesting  letter 


A  PROPOSAL  AND  A  LETTER  189 

had  been  here  several  days.     Think  of  it,  and  I  would  have 
given  most  anything  to  have  had  it  sooner. 

Well,  in  reference  to  what  you  intimated  in  your  letter 
regarding  the  land  up  there,  I  am  deeply  interested.  Noth- 
ing strikes  my  fancy  so  much  as  homesteading  —  which  I 
think  you  meant.  I  would  the  best  in  the  world  like  to  hold 
down  a  claim,  and  am  sure  I  would  make  a  great  home- 
steader. But  why  write  more!  An  hour  with  you  will 
explain  matters  more  fully  than  a  hundred  letters,  so  I  will 
close  with  this  :  You  hinted  about  coming  down,  and  my  in- 
vitation is  to  do  so,  and  do  so  at  your  earliest  possible  con- 
venience. I  am  waiting  with  great  anxiety  your  honored 
appearance. 

In  the  meantime,  trusting  that  you  are  healthy,  hopeful 
and  happy,  please  believe  me  to  be, 

Cordially,  sincerely  —  and  anxiously  yours, 

IRENE  GREY. 

He  regarded  the  letter  a  little  wistfully,  and  the  next 
moment  tore  it  to  bits,  flung  it  to  the  winds,  and  went  about 
his  business. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    PRAIRIE    FIRE 

44T^  JiTY  MOTHER  grabbed  me,  kissed  and  hugged  me 
\/|  time  and  again  when  I  returned,"  Jean  Baptiste 
•*••*•  read  in  the  letter  he  received  from  his  wife-to-be 
a  few  days  after  she  had  returned  to  the  windy  city,  and  he 
was  satisfied.  "  She  had  been  so  worried,  you  see,  because 
she  had  written  father  nothing  about  it,  and  this  was  the 
first  time  in  her  married  life  that  she  has  dared  do  anything 
without  a  long  consultation  with  him.  But  she  is  glad  I 
went  now,  and  thinks  you  are  a  very  sensible  fellow  there- 
for. Papa  sent  a  telegram  advising  that  he  had  been  reap- 
pointed  Presiding  Elder  over  the  same  district,  and  would 
come  into  Chicago  for  a  few  days  before  entering  into  an- 
other year  of  the  work. 

"  I  am  deluged  with  questions  regarding  the  West,  and 
it  gives  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  explain  everything, 
and  of  the  wonderful  work  you  are  doing.  Now,  papa  will 
be  home  in  a  few  days,  and,  knowing  how  hard  he  is  to 
explain  anything  to,  I  am  preparing  myself  for  quite  a 
task.  I  will  close  now.  With  love  and  kisses  to  you,  be- 
lieve me  to  be, 

"  Your  own, 

"  ORLEAN." 

Jean  now  went  about  his  duties.  His  sister  and  grand- 
mother were  with  him,  and  he  had  planned  to  put  them  on 
their  claims  at  once,  so  as  to  enable  them  to  prove  up  as 

190 


THE  PRAIRIE  FIRE 


191 


soon  as  possible.  Therefore  to  their  places  he  hauled  lum- 
ber, coal  and  provisions.  Their  claims  lay  some  forty-five 
miles  to  the  northwest  beyond  the  railroad  which  now  had 
its  terminus  at  Dallas.  And,  referring  to  that,  we  have  not 
found  occasion  to  mention  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
country  in  the  two  years  passed. 

When  the  railroad  had  missed  Dallas  and  struck  Gregory 
and  the  other  two  government  townsites,  Dallas  was  ap- 
parently doomed,  and  in  a  few  months  most  of  the  busi- 
ness men  had  gone,  and  the  business  buildings,  etc.,  had 
been  moved  to  Gregory.  This  town,  because  of  the  fact 
that  it  was  only  five  miles  from  the  next  county  line  —  the 
county  that  had  been  opened  and  which  contained  the  land 
that  Jean  Baptiste  had  secured  for  his  relatives  and  bride 
—  was,  for  a  time,  expected  to  become  the  terminus.  And 
to  this  end  considerable  activity  had  transpired  with  a  view 
to  getting  the  heavy  trade  that  would  naturally  come  with 
the  opening  and  settlement  of  the  county  west,  which  had 
twice  the  area  of  the  county  in  which  Gregory  lay. 

Now,  it  was  shortly  after  the  railroad  was  under  course 
of  construction  that  one,  the  chief  promoter  of  the  town- 
site,  called  on  the  "  town  Dad's  "  of  Gregory  with  a  prop- 
osition. The  proposition  was,  in  short,  to  move  Dallas  to 
Gregory,  and  thereupon  combine  in  making  Gregory  a  real 
city. 

Unfortunately  for  Gregpry,  her  leaders  were  men  who 
had  grown  up  in  a  part  of  the  country  where  the  people 
did  not  know  all  they  might  have  known.  They  consisted  in 
a  large  measure  of  rustic  mountebanks,  who,  because,  and 
only  because,  Gregory  happened  to  have  been  in  the  direct 
line  of  the  railroad  survey,  and  had  thereby  secured  the 
road,  took  unto  themselves  the  credit  of  it  all.  So,  instead 
of  entertaining  the  offer  in  a  logical,  business  and  appreci- 


I92  THE  HOMESTEADER 

ative  manner,  gave  the  promoter  the  big  haw!  haw!  and 
turned  their  backs  to  him. 

There  was  a  spell  of  inactivity  for  a  time  on  the  part  of 
the  said  promoter.  But  in  the  fall,  when  the  ground  had 
frozen  hard,  and  the  corn  was  being  gathered,  all  that  was 
left  in  the  little  town  of  Dallas,  laying  beside  the  claim  of 
Jean  Baptiste,  was  suddenly  hauled  five  miles  west  of  the 
town  of  Gregory.  And  still  before  the  Gregory  illogics 
had  time  even  to  think  clearly,  business  was  going  on  in 
what  they  then  chose  to  call  New  Dallas  —  and  the  same 
lay  directly  on  the  line  of  the  two  counties,  and  where  the 
railroad  survey  ended. 

It  is  needless  to  detail  the  excitement  which  had  followed 
this.  "  Lies,  lies,  liars !  "  were  the  epithets  hurled  from 
Gregory.  "  The  railroad  is  in  Gregory  to  stay ;  to  stay 
for" — oh,  they  couldn't  say  how  many  years,  perhaps  a 
hundred;  but  all  that  noise  to  the  west  was  a  bluff,  a 
simon  pure  bluff,  and  that  ended  it.  That  is,  until  they 
started  the  same  noise  over  again.  But  it  had  not  been  a 
bluff.  The  tracks  had  been  laid  from  Gregory  to  Dallas 
early  in  the  spring  that  followed,  and  now  Dallas  was  the 
town  instead  of  Gregory,  and  the  boom  that  had  followed 
the  building  of  the  town,  is  a  matter  never  to  be  forgotten 
in  the  history  of  the  country. 

Gregory's  one  good  fortune  was  that  she  had  secured  the 
land  office  which  necessitated  that  all  filings  should  be  en- 
tered there,  and  in  this  way  got  more  of  the  boom  that  was 
occasioned  by  the  land  opening  at  the  west  than  it  had  ex- 
pected to  when  the  railroad  company  had  pushed  its  way 
west  out  of  the  town. 

It  was  about  this  time  while  great  excitement  was  on  and 
thousands  of  people  were  in  the  town  of  Dallas  that  some- 
thing occurred  that  came  near  literally  wiping  that  town 


THE  PRAIRIE  FIRE  193 

off  the  map.  Jean  Baptiste  had  loaded  his  wagons  and 
was  on  the  way  from  his  land  to  the  claims  of  his  sister 
when  the  same  came  to  pass. 

The  greatest  danger  in  a  new  country  comes  after  the 
grass  has  died  in  the  fall  and  before  the  new  grass  starts 
in  the  spring.  But  in  the  fall  when  the  grass  is  dry  and 
crisp,  and  the  surface  below  is  warm  and  dry,  is  the  time  of 
prairie  fires.  No  time  could  have  been  more  opportune  for 
such  an  episode  than  the  time  now  was.  The  wind  had  been 
blowing  for  days  and  days,  and  had  made  the  short  grass 
very  brittle,  and  the  surface  below  as  hot  as  in  July.  Jean 
Baptiste  was  within  about  a  mile  of  where  New  Dallas 
now  reposed  vaingloriously  on  a  hillside,  her  many  new 
buildings  rising  proudly,  defiantly,  as  if  to  taunt  and  annoy 
Gregory,  against  the  skyline,  when  with  the  wind  greeting 
him,  he  caught  the  smell  of  burning  grass.  He  reached  a 
hillside  presently,  and  from  there  he  could  see  for  miles  to 
the  west  beyond,  and  the  sight  that  met  his  gaze  staggered 
him. 

"  A  prairie  fire,"  he  cried  apprehensively,  and  urged  his 
teams  forward  toward  Dallas.  One  glance  had  been  suffi- 
cient to  convince  him  what  it  might  possibly  mean.  A 
prairie  fire  with  the  wind  behind  it  as  this  was,  would 
bid  no  good  for  Dallas,  and  once  there  he  could  be  of  a  little 
service,  since  he  knew  how  to  fight  it. 

When  he  arrived  at  the»  outskirts  of  the  embryo  city,  he 
was  met  by  a  frightened  herd  of  humanity.  With  bags  and 
trunks  and  all  they  could  carry ;  with  eyes  wide,  and  mouths 
gaped,  in  terror  they  were  hurrying  madly  from  the  town 
to  an  apparent  place  of  safety  —  a  plowed  field  nearby. 
Miles  to  the  west  the  fire  and  smoke  rose  in  great,  dark 
reddened  clouds,  and  cast  —  even  at  that  distance,  dark 
shadows  over  the  little  city.  As  he  drew  into  the  town, 


I94  THE  HOMESTEADER 

he  could  see  a  line  of  figures  working  at  fire  breaks  before 
the  gloom.  They  were  the  promoters  and  the  townspeople, 
and  he  imagined  how  they  must  feel  with  death  possible  — 
and  destruction,  positive,  coming  like  an  angry  beast  di- 
rectly upon  them. 

Soon,  Jean  Baptiste,  with  wet  horse  blankets,  was  with 
them  on  the  firing  line.  The  speed  at  which  the  wind  was 
driving  the  fire  was  ominous.  Soon  all  the  west  was  as  if 
lost  in  the  conflagration,  for  the  sun,  shining  out  of  a  clear 
sky  an  hour  before  was  now  shut  out  as  if  clouds  were  over 
all.  The  dull  roar  and  crackle  of  the  burning  grass  brought 
a  feeling  of  awe  over  all  before  it.  The  heat  became,  after 
a  time,  intense;  the  air  was  surcharged  with  soot,  and  the 
little  army  worked  madly  at  the  firebreaks. 

Rolling,  tumbling,  twisting,  turning,  but  always  coming 
onward,  the  hurricane  presently  struck  the  fire  guards.  In 
that  moment  it  was  seen  that  a  mass  of  thistles,  dried 
manure,  and  all  refuse  from  the  prairie  was  sweeping  be- 
fore it,  as  if  to  draw  the  fire  onward.  The  fire  plunged 
over  the  guards  as  though  they  had  not  been  made,  pushed 
back  the  little  army  and  rushed  madly  into  the  town. 

It  was  impossible  now  to  do  more.  The  conflagration 
was  beyond  control.  Now  in  the  town,  an  effort  was  there- 
fore made  to  get  the  people  out  of  their  houses  where  some 
had  even  hidden  when  it  appeared  that  all  would  be  swept 
away  in  the  terrible  deluge  of  fire.  One,  two,  three,  four, 
five,  six  —  ten  houses  went  up  like  chaff,,  and  the  populace 
groaned,  when,  of  a  sudden,  something  happened.  Like 
Napoleon's  army  at  Waterloo  there  was  a  quick  change. 
One  of  those  rare  freaks  —  but  what  some  chose  to  claim 
in  after  years  as  the  will  of  the  Creator  in  sympathy 
with  the  hopeful  builders,  the  wind  gradually  died  down, 
whipped  around,  and  in  less  than  five  minutes,  was  blowing 


THE  PRAIRIE  FIRE  195 

from  the  east,  almost  directly  against  its  route  of  a  few 
minutes  before.  The  fire  halted,  seemed  to  hesitate,  and 
then  like  some  cowardly  thing,  turned  around  and  started 
back  of  the  same  ground  it  had  raged  over  where  it 
lingered  briefly,  sputtered,  flickered,  and  then  quickly  died. 
And  the  town,  badly  frightened,  hard  worked,  but  thankful 
withal,  was  saved. 


CHAPTER  VII 

VANITY 

*  *  "Tl  JIT  Y  FATHER  is  home,  and,  oh !  but  he  did  carry  on 
\/|  when  he  was  informed  regarding  my  trip  West 
-*--*•  to  take  the  homestead,"  Orlean  wrote  her  be- 
trothed in  her  next  letter.  "  He  was  so  much  upset  over  it 
that  he  went  out  of  the  house  and  walked  in  the  street  for 
a  time  to  still  his  intense  excitement.  When  he  returned, 
however,  he  listened  to  my  explanation,  and,  after  a  time, 
I  was  pleased  to  note  that  he  was  pacified.  And  still  later 
he  was  pleased,  and  when  a  half  day  had  passed  he  was 
tickled  to  death. 

"  Of  course  I  was  relieved  then  also,  and  now  I  am 
fully  satisfied.  I  have  not  written  you  as  soon  as  I  should 
have  on  this  account.  I  thought  it  would  be  best  to  wait 
until  papa  had  heard  the  news  and  was  settled  on  the  matter, 
which  he  now  is.  He  has  written  you  and  I  think  you 
should  receive  the  letter  about  the  same  time  you  will  this. 
He  has  never  been  anxious  in  his  simple  old  heart  for  me 
to  marry,  but  of  course  he  understands  that  I  must  some 
day,  and  now  that  I  am  engaged  to  you,  he  appears  to  be 
greatly  pleased. 

"  By  the  way,  I  have  not  received  the  ring  yet,  and  am 
rather  anxious.  Of  course  I  wish  to  be  quite  reasonable, 
but  on  the  whole,  a  girl  hardly  feels  she's  engaged  until  she 
is  wearing  the  ring,  you  know.  Write  me  a  real  sweet 

196 


VANITY  197 

letter,  and  make  it  long.     In  the  meantime  remember  me  as 
one  who  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you, 

"  From  your  fond, 

"  ORLEAN." 

Baptiste  heard  from  his  father-in-law-to-be  in  due  time, 
and  read  the  letter  carefully,  replying  to  the  same  forth- 
with. 

We  should  record  before  going  further  that  the  incident 
which  had  happened  between  them  in  his  youth  had  been 
almost  as  completely  buried  as  it  had  been  before  the  day 
of  its  recent  resurrection.  In  his  reply  he  stated  that  he 
would  come  into  the  city  Xmas,  which  meant  of  course, 
that  they  would  meet  and  come  to  understand  each  other 
better.  He  was  glad  that  the  formalities  were  in  part 
through  with,  and  would  be  glad  when  it  was  over.  He 
did  not  appreciate  so  much  ado  where  so  little  was  repre- 
sented, as  it  were.  He  had  it  from  good  authority  without 
inquiry  that  the  Reverend  McCarthy  had  never  possessed 
two  hundred  dollars  at  one  time  in  his  life,  and  the  formali- 
ties he  felt  compelled  to  go  through  with  far  exceeded  that 
amount  already.  And  with  this  in  mind  he  began  gather- 
ing his  corn  crop  which  he  had  been  delayed  in  doing  on 
account  of  the  stress  of  other  more  urgent  duties. 

He  had  been  at  work  but  a  few  days  when  snow  began  to 
fall.  For  days  it  fell  from  a  northwesterly  direction,  and 
then  turning,  for  a  week  came  from  an  easterly  direction. 
This  kept  up  until  the  holidays  arrived,  therefore  most  of 
the  corn  crop  over  all  the  country  was  caught  and  remained 
in  the  field  all  the  winter  through.  By  the  hardest  work  his 
sister  and  grandmother  succeeded  in  reaching  his  place  from 
their  homesteads,  and  stayed  there  while  he  went  into 
Chicago. 


198  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Mr.  Baptiste,  please  meet  my  father,"  said  Orlean  when 
he  called,  following  his  arrival  in  the  city  again.  He  looked 
up  to  find  a  tall,  dark  but  handsome  old  man  extending  his 
hand.  He  regarded  him,  studied  him  carefully  in  a  flash, 
and  in  doing  so  his  mind  went  back  twenty  years ;  to  a 
memorable  day  when  he  had  been  punished  and  had  fol- 
lowed it  by  running  away.  He  extended  his  hand  and 
grasped  the  other's,  and  wondered  if  he  also  remem- 
bered. .  .  .  They  exchanged  greetings,  and  if  the  other  re- 
called him,  he  gave  no  evidence  of  the  fact  in  his  expres- 
sion. 

When  he  had  sat  beside  the  teacher,  such  a  long  time 
before,  Baptiste  recalled  now,  that  at  the  back  of  the  other's 
head  there  had  been  a  white  spot  where  the  hair  was  chang- 
ing color;  but  now  this  spot  spread  over  all  the  head,  and 
the  hair  was  almost  as  white  as  snow.  With  his  dark  skin, 
this  formed  a  contrast  that  gave  the  other  a  distinguished 
appearance  which  was  noticeably  striking.  But  his  eyes  did 
not  meet  with  Baptiste's  favor,  though  he  was  not  inclined 
to  take  this  seriously.  But  as  he  continued  to  glance  at 
him  at  times  during  the  evening  he  did  not  fail  to  see  that 
the  other  seemed  never  to  look  straight  and  frankly  into 
his  eyes ;  and  there  was  in  his  gaze  and  expression  when  he 
met  Baptiste, —  so  Baptiste  thought  —  a  peculiar  lurking,  as 
if  some  hidden  evil  were  looking  out  of  the  infinite  depths 
of  the  other's  soul.  It  annoyed  Baptiste  because  every 
time  he  caught  the  other's  gaze  he  recalled  the  incident  of 
twenty  years  before,  and  wanted  to  forget  it;  declared  he 
would  forget  it,  and  to  that  task  he  set  himself,  and  ap- 
parently succeeded  while  in  the  city. 

With  Ethel  and  her  husband,  whose  name  was  Glavis,  he 
never  got  along  at  all.  Ethel  was  pompous,  and  known 
to  be  .disagreeable ;  while  Glavis  was  narrow,  and  a  victim 


VANITY  199 

of  his  wife's  temper  and  disposition.  So  unless  the  talk 
was  on  society  and  "  big  "  Negroes,  which  positively  did  not 
interest  Jean  Baptiste,  who  was  practical  to  the  superlative, 
there  was  no  agreement. 

So  when  Jean  Baptiste  returned  West,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  great  relief. 

The  severe  winter  passed  at  last  and  with  early  spring 
everybody  completed  the  gathering  of  the  corn  and  immedi- 
ately turned  to  seeding  their  crops.  Work  was  plentiful 
everywhere,  and  to  secure  men  to  complete  gathering  his 
crop  of  corn,  Baptiste  had  the  greatest  difficulty.  Stewarts 
had  failed  to  secure  any  land  at  all  —  either  of  the  fpur  in 
the  drawing,  and,  being  unable  to  purchase  relinquishments 
on  even  one  quarter  at  the  large  sum  demanded  therefor,  had 
gone  toward  the  western  part  of  the  state  and  taken  free 
homesteads.  As  for  Agnes,  she  had  apparently  passed  out 
of  his  life. 

He  labored  so  hard  in  the  cold,  wet  muddy  fields  in  try- 
ing to  get  his  corn  out  that  he  was  taken  ill,  and  was  not 
able  to  work  at  all  for  days,  and  while  so,  he  wrote  his 
fiancee  his  troubles;  and  that  since  he  was  so  indisposed, 
with  a  world  of  work  and  expense  upon  him  she  would  do 
him  a  great  favor  if  she  would  consent  to  come  to  him  and 
be  married. 

Now  the  McCarthys  had  given  Ethel  a  big  wedding  al- 
though her  husband  received  only  thirteen  dollars  a  week  for 
his  work.  Two  hundred  dollars,  so  it  was  reported,  had 
been  expended  on  the  occasion.  Such  display  did  not  appeal 
to  the  practical  mind  of  Jean.  He  had  lived  his  life  too 
closely  in  accomplishing  his  purpose  to  become  at  this  late 
day  a  victim  of  such  simple  vanity ;  the  ultra  simple  vanity 
of  aping  the  rich.  Upon  this  point  his  mind  was  duly  set. 
The  McCarthys  had  started  to  buy  a  home  the  summer  be- 


200  THE  HOMESTEADER 

fore  which  was  quite  expensive,  and  had  entered  into  the 
contract  with  a  payment  of  three  hundred  dollars.  The 
Reverend  had  borrowed  a  hundred  dollars  on  his  life  insur- 
ance and  paid  this  in,  while  Glavis  had  paid  another.  Ethel 
had  used  what  money  she  had  saved  teaching,  to  expend  in 
the  big  wedding,  so  Orlean  had  paid  the  other  hundred  out 
of  the  money  she  had  saved  teaching  school. 

Now,  if  there  was  any  big  wedding  for  Orlean,  then  he, 
Jean  Baptiste,  knew  that  he  would  be  expected  to  stand 
the  expense.  Therefore,  Baptiste  tried  to  make  plain  to 
Orlean  in  his  letters  the  gravity  of  his  position.  She  would 
be  compelled  to  establish  residence  on  her  homestead  early 
in  May,  and  this  was  April,  or  forfeit  her  right  and  sacrifice 
all  he  had  put  into  it. 

But  Orlean  became  unreasonable  —  Jean  Baptiste  rea- 
soned. She  set  forth  that  she  did  not  think  it  right  for  her 
to  go  away  out  there  and  marry  him;  that  he  should 
come  to  her.  She  seemed  to  have  lost  sense  of  all  he  had 
written  her,  regarding  the  crops,  responsibilities,  and  other 
considerations.  He  wrote  her  to  place  it  up  to  her  mother 
and  father,  which  she  did,  to  reply  in  the  same  tenor.  They 
had  not  agreed  to  it,  either.  He  replied  then  heatedly,  and 
hinted  that  her  father  was  not  a  business  man  else  he  would 
have  realized  his  circumstances,  and,  as  man  to  man,  appre- 
ciated the  same. 

The  next  letter  he  received  had  enclosed  the  receipt  for 
the  first  payment  of  the  purchase  price  of  six  dollars  an  acre, 
a  charge  the  government  had  made  on  the  land,  amount- 
ing to  some  $210,  in  the  first  payment.  She  released  him 
from  his  promise  —  but  kept  the  ring. 

"  Now,  don't  that  beat  the  devil ! "  he  exclaimed  angrily, 
when  he  read  the  letter.  "  As  though  this  receipt  is  worth 
anything  to  me;  or  that  it  would  suffice  to  get  back  the 


VANITY  201 

$2,000  I  paid  the  man  for  the  relinquishment.  The  only 
thing  that  will  suffice  is,  for  her  to  go  on  the  land,  so  I  guess 
I'll  have  to  settle  this  nuisance  at  once  by  going  to  Chicago 
and  marrying  her." 

So  he  started  for  the  Windy  City. 

At  Omaha  he  sent  a  telegram  to  her  to  the  effect  that  he 
was  on  the  way,  and  would  arrive  in  the  city  on  the 
morrow. 

He  arrived.  He  called  her  up  from  the  Northwestern 
station,  and  she  called  back  that  it  was  settled;  she  had 
given  him  her  word.  The  engagement  was  off. 

"  Oh,  foolish,"  he  called  jovially.  ..."  It  isn't,"  she 
called  back  angrily.  ..."  Well,"  said  he,  "  I'll  call  and 
see  you.  .  .  .''  "  No  need,"  she  said.  ..."  But  you'll  see 
me,"  he  called.  .  .  .  "Yes,  I'll  see  you.  I'll  do  you  that 
honor.  .  .  ." 

Now  when  Jean  Baptiste  had  called  over  the  'phone, 
Glavis  had  answered  the  call,  and  thereupon  had  started  an 
argument  that  Orlean  had  concluded  by  taking  the  receiver 
from  his  hand.  Of  course  she  had  jilted  Jean  Baptiste  and 
had  sent  back  the  papers;  moreover,  she  had  declared  she 
would  not  marry  him  —  under  any  circumstances.  But  she 
would  attend  to  that  herself  and  did  not  need  the  assistance 
of  her  brother-in-law.  .  .  . 

Glavis  was  quite  officious  that  morning  —  acting  under  his 
wife's  orders.  When  the  bell  rang,  although  he  should  have 
been  at  his  work  an  hour*  before  he  opened  the  door.  Bap- 
tiste was  there  and  Glavis  started  to  say  something  he  felt 
his  wife  would  be  pleased  to  know  he  said.  But,  being  af- 
fected with  a  slight  impediment  of  speech,  his  tongue  be- 
came twisted  and  when  he  could  straighten  it  out,  Baptiste 
had  passed  him  and  was  on  his  way  to  the  rear  of  the  house 
where  Orlean  stood  pouting.  Ethel  stood  near  with  her 


202  THE  HOMESTEADER 

lips  protruding,  and  Mrs.  McCarthy,  whom  he  had  termed, 
"  Little  Mother  Mary,"  stood  nearby  at  a  loss  as  to  what 
to  say. 

"  Indeed,  but  it  looks  more  like  you  were  waiting  for  a 
funeral  than  for  me/'  as  he  burst  in  upon  them.  Pausing 
briefly,  he  observed  the  one  who  had  declared  everything 
against  him,  turned  her  face  away  and  refused  to  greet  him. 

"What's  the  matter,  hon',"  he  said  gaily  and  laughed,  at 
the  same  time  gathering  her  into  his  arms. 

"  Will  you  look  at  that !  "  exclaimed  Ethel,  ready  to  start 
something.  But  Glavis,  countered  twice  the  morning  so 
soon,  concluded  at  last  that  it  was  his  time  to  keep  his  place. 
So  deciding,  he  cut  his  eyes  toward  Ethel,  and  said :  "  Now, 
Ethel,  this  is  no  affair  of  yours/'  and  cautioned  her  still 
more  with  his  eyes. 

"  No,  Ethel,"  commanded  Orlean,  "  This  is  my  affair. 
I  — "  she  did  not  finish,  because  at  that  moment  Jean  Bap- 
tiste  had  kissed  her. 

"  It  beats  anything  I  ever  witnessed,"  cried  Ethel,  almost 
bursting  to  get  started. 

"  Then  don't  witness  it,"  said  Glavis,  whereupon  he 
caught  her  about  the  waist  and  urged  her  up  the  stairs  and 
locked  her  in  their  room. 

"  You've  been  acting  something  awful  like,"  chided  Bap- 
tiste,  with  Orlean  still  in  his  arms.  She  did  not  answer 
just  then.  She  could  not.  She  decided  at  that  moment, 
however,  to  take  him  into  the  parlor,  and  there  tell  him  all 
she  said  she  would.  Yes,  she  would  do  that  at  once.  So 
deciding,  she  caught  him  firmly  by  the  arm,  and  com- 
manded : 

"  Come,  and  I  will  get  you  told ! " 

He  followed  meekly.  When  they  reached  the  parlor  she 
was  confronted  with  another  proposition.  Where  would 


VANITY  203 

they  sit  ?  She  glanced  from  the  chairs  to  the  davenport ;  but 
he  settled  it  forthwith  by  settling  upon  the  davenport.  She 
hesitated,  but  before  she  had  reached  a  decision,  she  found 
herself  pulled  down  by  his  side  —  and  dreadfully  close. 
Well,  she  decided  then,  that  this  was  better,  after  all,  be- 
cause, if  she  was  close  to  him  he  could  hear  her  better.  She 
would  not  have  to  talk  so  loud.  She  did  not  like  loud  talk- 
ing. It  was  too  "  niggerish,"  and  she  did  not  like  that. 
But  behold!  He,  as  soon  as  she  was  seated,  encircled  her 
waist  with  his  arm.  Dreadful!  Then,  before  she  could  tell 
him  what  she  had  made  up  all  the  night  before  to  say  to  him, 
she  felt  his  lips  upon  hers  —  and,  my!  they  were  so  warm, 
and  tender  and  soft.  She  was  confused.  Ethel  and  her 
father  had  said  that  the  country  where  Jean  lived  was  wild ; 
that  all  the  people  in  it  were  hard  and  coarse  and  rough  — 
but  Jean's  kisses  were  warm,  and  soft  and  tender.  She  al- 
most forgot  what  she  had  intended  telling  him.  And  just 
then  he  caught  her  to  him,  and  that  felt  so  —  well,  she 
did  not  know  —  could  not  say  how  it  felt ;  but  she  was  for- 
getting all  she  had  planned  to  tell  him.  She  heard  his  voice 
presently,  and  for  a  moment  she  caught  sight  of  his  eyes. 
They  were  real  close  to  hers,  and,  oh,  such  eyes !  She  had 
not  known  he  possessed  such  striking  ones.  How  they 
moved  her!  She  was  as  if  hypnotized,  she  could  not 
seem  to  break  the  spell,  and  in  the  meantime  she  was  forget- 
ting more  of  what  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  say.  He 
spoke  then,  and  such  a  wonderful  voice  he  seemed  to  have ! 
How  musical,  how  soft,  how  tender  —  but  withal,  how 
strong,  how  firm,  how  resolute  and  determined  it  was.  She 
was  held  in  a  thraldom  of  strange  delight. 

"What  has  been  the  matter  with  my  little  girl?"  And 
thereupon,  as  if  they  were  not  close  enough,  he  gathered  her 
into  his  arms.  Oh,  what  a  thrill  it  gave  her !  She  had  for- 


204  THE  HOMESTEADER 

gotten  now,  all  she  had  had  in  mind  to  say  and  it  would  take 
an  hour  or  so,  perhaps  a  day,  to  think  and  remember  it  all 
over  again.  ..."  Hasn't  she  wanted  to  see  me  ?  Such 
beautiful  days  are  these !  Lovely,  grand,  glorious !  "  She 
looked  out  through  the  window.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  in- 
deed !  And  she  had  not  observed  it  before. 

"  And  hear  the  birds  singing  in  the  trees,"  she  heard. 
And  thereupon  she  listened  a  moment  and  heard  the  birds 
singing.  She  started.  Now  she  had  felt  she  was  thought- 
ful. She  really  loved  to  listen  to  the  twitter  of  birds  —  and 
it  was  springtime.  It  was  life,  and  sunshine  and  happi- 
ness. She  had  not  heard  the  birds  before  that  morning, 
therefore  it  must  have  been  because  she  had  let  anger  rule 
instead  of  sunshine.  And  as  if  he  had  read  her  thoughts, 
she  heard  his  voice  again  : 

"  And  because  you  were  angry  —  gave  in  to  evil  angriness 
and  pouted  instead  of  being  cheerful,  happy  and  gay,  you 
have  failed  to  observe  how  beautiful  the  sun  shone,  and  that 
the  birds  were  singing  in  the  trees." 

She  felt  —  was  sensitive  of  a  feeling  of  genuine 
guilt. 

"  And  away  out  west,  where  the  sunshine  kisses  the  earth, 
and  the  wheat,  the  corn,  the  flax,  and  the  oats  grow  green 
in  great  fields,  everybody  there  is  about  his  duty ;  for,  when 
the  winter  has  been  long,  cold  and  dreary,  the  settlers  must 
stay  indoors  lest  they  freeze.  So  with  such  days  as  these 
after  the  long,  cold  and  dreary  winters,  everybody  must  be 
up  and  doing.  For  if  the  crops  are  to  mature  in  the  autumn 
time,  they  must  be  placed  in  the  earth  through  seed  in  the 
springtime.  But  there  is,  unfortunately,  one  settler,  called 
St.  Jean  Baptiste,  by  those  who  know  him  out  there,  who 
is  not  in  his  fields ;  his  crops  are  not  being  sown ;  his  fields 
—  wide,  wide  fields,  which  represent  many  thousands  of 


VANITY  205 

dollars,  and  long  years  of  hard,  hard  work,  are  lying  idle, 
growing  to  wild  weeds !  " 

"  But,  Jean,"  she  cried  of  a  sudden.     "  It  is  not  so?  " 

"  Unfortunately  it  is  so,  my  love !  " 

"  Then  —  Jean  —  you  must  go  —  hurry,  and  sow  your 
crops,  also !  "  she  echoed. 

"  For  years  and  years  has  Jean  Baptiste  labored  to  get 
his  fields  as  they  are.  For,  in  the  beginning,  they  were 
wild,  raw  and  unproductive,  whereupon  naught  but  coyotes, 
prairie  dogs  and  wild  Indians  lived ;  where  only  a  wild  grass 
grew  weakly  and  sickly  from  the  surface  and  yielded  only 
a  prairie  fire  that  in  the  autumn  time  burned  all  in  its  path ; 
a  land  wherein  no  civilized  one  had  resided  since  the  begin- 
ning of  time." 

"Oh,  Jean!" 

"  And  he  has  longed  for  woman's  love.  For,  according 
to  the  laws  of  the  Christ,  man  should  take  unto  himself  a 
wife,  else  the  world  and  all  its  people,  its  activity,  its  future 
will  stop  forthwith !  " 

"  You  are  so  wonderful !  " 

"  Not  wonderful,  am  I,"  quoth  Baptiste.  "  Just  a  mite 
practical." 

"  But  it  is  wonderful  anyhow,  all  you  say !  " 

"  And  yet  my  Orlean  does  not  love  me  yet !  " 

"  I  didn't  say  that,"  she  argued,  thinking  of  what  she  had 
written  him. 

"  Since  therefore  she  has  not  said  it,  then  methinks  that 
she  does  not." 

"  I  —  I  —  oh,  you  —  are  awful !  " 

"  And  she  will  not  go  to  live  alone  with  me  and  share  my 
life  —  and  my  love !  " 

"I  —  oh,  I  didn't  say  I  wouldn't  do  all  that."  She  was 
done  for  then.  She  had  shot  her  last  defense. 


206  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Then  you  will  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously.  "  You  will  go 
back  with  me,  and  be  mine,  all  mine  and  love  me  forever?  " 

She  sought  his  lips  and  kissed  him  then,  and  he  arose 
and  caught  her  close  to  him  and  kissed  her  again  and  looked 
into  her  eyes,  and  she  was  then  all  his  own. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MARRIED 

44^"T  THY  —  why  —  why,  what  does  this  mean!"  ex- 
^^7  claimed  "  Little  Mother  Mary  "  coming  upon 
them  at  this  minute.  Notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  she  was  surprised,  it  was  obviously  a  glad  sur- 
prise. She  admired  Jean  Baptiste,  and  had  been  much  up- 
set over  their  little  controversy.  She  understood  the  root 
of  the  trouble,  and  knew  that  it  had  been  on  account  of 
what  Baptiste  had  written  and  intimated  in  the  letter  re- 
garding the  Elder.  Her  husband  did  not  admire  real  men, 
although  of  course,  he  was  not  aware  of  it.  In  truth,  he  ad- 
mired no  man,  other  than  himself.  And  when  others  did 
not  do  likewise,  he  usually  found  excuses  to  disagree  with 
them  in  some  manner. 

Jean  Baptiste  was  not  the  type  of  man  to  make  friends 
with  her  husband.  He  was  too  frank,  too  forward,  too  pro- 
gressive in  every  way  ever  to  become  very  intimate  with  N. 
Justine  McCarthy.  To  begin  with,  Jean  had  never  flattered 
his  vanity  as  it  was  not  his  wont  to  give  undue  praise.  And 
as  yet  he  had  no  reason  especially  to  admire  the  Reverend. 
That  it  had  not  been  Orlean  who  had  objected  to  coming 
West  to  marry  him  he  was  aware.  Nor  had  it  been  her 
mother.  It  had  been  N.  Justine  who  had  a  way  of  making 
his  faults  and  shortcomings  appear  to  be  those  of  others  — 
especially  within  his  family,  and  in  this  instance  his  elder 
daughter  bore  the  blame. 

"  What  would  you  expect  us  to  do,  Little  Mother,"  he 
said,  turning  a  beaming  face  upon  her. 

207 


208  THE  HOMESTEADER 

«  But  —  Orlean,  I  thought  —  I  thought  — " 

"Oh,  Mother,"  cried  Jean  Baptiste,  "  don't  think.  It 
will  hurt  you.  Besides,  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  you  to 
think  any  more  with  regards  to  us  now.  We  are  as  we 
were,  and  that  is  all.  There  is  nothing  wrong  between  us 
—  never  has  been,  nor  between  you  and  I  now  either,  is 
there?"  Whereupon  he  drew  her  down  and  upon  the 
davenport  and  placed  himself  between  her  and  her  daughter. 

"  Now  let's  reason  this  thing  out  together,"  he  began. 
"  There  is  no  need  for  quarreling.  We'll  leave  that  to  idle, 
disagreeable  people.  The  first  thing  in  life  is  to  know  what 
you  want  —  and  then  go  get  it.  That's  the  way  I  do. 
When  I  proposed  to  Orlean  I  did  so  after  due  consider- 
ation. There  has  been  some  little  disagreement  with  re- 
gards to  my  coming  to  get  her,  which  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  I  have  been  so  overrun  with  work  until  I  really  felt  I 
had  not  the  time  to  spare.  However,  here  I  am  and  ready 
to  marry  her.  So  let's  get  those  who  are  concerned  to- 
gether and  have  it  over  with.  What  do  you  say  to  it  ?  "  he 
said,  looking  from  one  to  the  other.  In  the  meantime,  Ethel 
had  crept  down  from  upstairs  to  see  what  was  going  on, 
and  saw  the  three  on  the  davenport  together,  with  Jean 
Baptiste  in  the  middle.  Whereupon,  she  turned  and  hurried 
back  upstairs  to  where  her  husband  was,  with  these  words: 

"  Glavis,  Glav — is,"  she  cried  all  out  of  breath  with  ex- 
asperation. "  I  just  wish  you'd  look !  Just  step  down 
there  and  look !  " 

"  Why,  why  —  what  is  the  matter,  Ethel !  "  he  cried,  ris- 
ing from  his  chair  in  some  excitement. 

"  Why,  that  Jean  Baptiste  is  sitting  down  there  on  the 
davenport  with  mama  on  one  side  of  him  and  my  sister 
on  the  other !  " 

"  Oh,  is  that  all!  "  he  breathed  with  relief. 


MARRIED  209 

"  Is  that  all ! "  she  echoed  in  derision,  her  narrow  little 
face  screwed  up. 

"Well?" 

"  Will  you  *  well '  me  when  that  man  just  comes  in  here 
and  takes  the  house  and  all  that's  in  it !  " 

"  Oh,  Ethel."  he  argued.     "  Will  you  use  some  sense !  " 

"  Will  I  use  some  sense !  After  what  Orlean  said  ?  You 
remember  well  enough  what  she  said,  no  longer  than  last 
night  when  she  received  that  telegram.  That  she  was 
through  with  that  man;  that  she  was  not  going  to  marry 
him,  and  had  sent  his  old  papers  back  to  him  to  prove  it ! " 

"  Well,  now,  get  all  excited  over  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world!  Have  you  never  seen  a  woman  who  never 
changed  her  mind  —  especially  when  there  was  a  man  in  the 
case?" 

"  Of  course  I  have,"  she  shouted.  "  I  am  one  who  has 
never  changed  their  mind !  " 

"  I  agree,  and  that  is  what's  the  matter  with  you,"  so 
saying,  he  made  his  get-away  to  avoid  what  would  have 
followed. 

"  Now,  you  will  have  to  deal  with  my  husband  in  regard 
to  this  matter,  Mr.  Baptiste,"  admonished  Mother  Mary. 
She  had  given  into  him  along  with  Orlean.  It  was  useless  to 
try  to  pit  their  weak  wits  against  the  commanding  and  domi- 
neering reason,  the  quick  logic  and  searching  intuition  of 
Jean  Baptiste.  So  they  had  quickly  resigned  to  the  inevita- 
ble, and  left  him  to  the  rock  of  unreason,  the  Reverend  N. 
J.  McCarthy. 

"  All  settled.  I'll  bounce  right  out  and  get  him  on  the 
wire.  Best  words  to  send  are :  '  Please  come  to  Chicago 
today.  Important ! '  Will  that  be  alright  ?  " 

"  Jean  Baptiste,  you  are  a  wonder !  "  cried  Orlean,  and, 
encircling  his  neck  with  her  arms,  kissed  him  impulsively. 


210  THE  HOMESTEADER 

In  answer  they  received  by  special  delivery  a  letter  that 
night,  stating  that  his  honor,  N.  J.,  was  on  the  way,  and 
would  arrive  the  following  morning.  Preparations  were  en- 
tered into  at  once  therefore  for  a  simple  wedding,  only 
Ethel  holding  aloft  from  the  proceedings.  It  was  while  at 
the  supper  table  that  evening  that  Orlean  took  upon  herself 
to  try  to  set  Baptiste  right  with  what  was  before  him  in 
dealing  with  regards  to  her  father. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  she  said  lovingly,  "  if  you  would  get 
along  with  papa,  then  praise  him  —  you  understand,  flatter 
him  a  little.  Make  him  think  he's  a  king." 

"  Oh-ho ! "  he  laughed,  whereat  she  was  embarrassed. 
"That's  the  'bug/  eh!" 

"  Well,"  she  hesitated,  awkwardly,  "  he  is  rather  vain." 

Baptiste  was  thoughtful.  Rev.  McCarthy  was  vain.  .  .  . 
He  must  be  praised  if  one  was  to  get  along  with  him.  .  .  . 
Make  him  think  he  was  a  king.  His  Majesty,  Newton 
Justine,  sounded  very  well  as  a  title.  All  he  needed  now, 
then,  was  a  crown.  If  necessary  for  peace  in  the  family 
he  would  praise  him,  although  it  was  not  to  his  liking. 

Jean  Baptiste  had  little  patience  with  people  who  must  be 
praised.  In  his  association  he  had  chosen  men,  men  who 
were  too  busy  to  look  for  or  care  for  praise.  But  he 
failed  to  reckon  then  that  he  was  facing  another  kind  of 
person,  one  whom  he  was  soon  to  learn. 

His  Majesty,  Newton  Justine,  arrived  on  schedule  the  next 
morning,  very  serious  of  expression,  and  apparently  tired 
into  the  bargain.  Baptiste  recalled  when  he  saw  him  what 
he  had  been  advised  with  regards  to  making  him  think  he 
was  a  king.  "  Well,"  sighed  Baptiste,  "  providing  '  His 
Majesty '  is  not  a  despot,  we  may  be  able  to  get  along  for  a 
day  or  two." 

Later,  when  convenient,  Baptiste  attempted  and  was  ap- 


MARRIED  211 

parently  successful  in  making  the  matter  so  plain  that 
despite  his  reputed  dislike  for  fair  reasoning,  the  Elder  was 
compelled  to  call  his  daughter  and  say: 

"  Now,  Orlean,  you  have  heard.  Are  you  in  love  with 
this  man?  "  The  melting  smile  she  bestowed  him  with  was 
quite  sufficient,  so  seeing,  he  continued : 

"And  do  you  wish  to  become  his  wife?"  She  looked 
down  into  her  lap  then,  turned  her  hands  in  childish  fashion, 
and  replied  in  a  very  small  voice : 

"  Yes." 

"Then,  that  settles  it,"  said  the  Elder,  and  thereafter 
made  himself  very  amiable.  By  the  morrow  arrangements 
had  been  Completed  for  a  simple  little  home  wedding,  and 
at  two  o'clock,  the  ceremony  was  performed. 

And  when  the  bride  and  groom  had  been  kissed  accord- 
ing to  custom,  a  storm  without  broke  of  a  sudden,  and  the 
wind  blew  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents.  So  terrible  became 
the  storm  that  the  piano,  which  some  one  played  loudly, 
as  if  to  shut  out  the  roar  of  the  storm  outside,  could 
hardly  be  heard.  And  in  the  meantime,  so  dark  did  it  be- 
come that  at  two  thirty  the  lights  had  to  be  turned  on,  the 
people  could  hardly  distinguish  each  other  in  the  rooms. 
Nor  did  the  storm  abate  as  the  afternoon  wore  on,  but  con- 
tinued in  mad  fury  far  into  the  night  and  the  guests  were 
compelled  to  leave  in  the  downpour  and  wind. 

And  there  were  among  those  who  departed,  many  who 
thought  and  did  not  speak.  They  were,  for  the  most  part, 
the  new  Negro,  hence  loathe  to  admit  of  superstitions  —  be- 
sides, they  had  great  respect  for  the  two  who  were  about  to 
start  upon  matrimony's  uncertain  journey.  But  regardless 
of  what  they  might  have  said  openly,  it  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore they  forgot. 


j 


CHAPTER  IX 

ORLEAN  RECEIVES  A  LETTER  AND  ADVICE 

EAN !  "  called  Orlean  three  months  later,  as  she  came 
out  of  the  house,  the  house  where  Stewarts  had 
lived,  and  which  Jean  Baptiste  had  rented  for  the 
season  so  as  to  be  near  all  his  land  in  the  older  opened 
county.  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  he  replied,  drawing  his  horses  to  a 
stop,  while  she  climbed  on  the  step  of  the  spring  wagon  he 
was  riding  in.  He  could  see  she  was  excited,  and  he  was 
apprehensive. 

She  got  up  on  the  seat  beside  him,  and  placing  her  arms 
around  him,  began  to  cry.  He  petted  her  a  moment  and 
then,  placing  his  hand  under  her  chin,  raised  her  head  and 
said :  "  Well,  now,  my  dear,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  where- 
upon, he  kissed  her.  Drawing  his  head  down  then,  she 
whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

"  Oh ! "  he  cried,  his  face  suddenly  aglow  with  an  ex- 
pression she  had  never  seen  in  it  before.  The  next  instant 
he  caught  and  drew  her  closely  to  him,  and  kissed  her 
fondly.  "  I  am  so  happy,  dear ;  the  happiest  I  have  been 
since  we  married !  " 

"But,  Jean!"  she  started  and  then  hesitated.  He  ap- 
peared to  understand. 

"  Now,  my  wife,  you  must  not  feel  that  way,"  he  ad- 
monished. "  That  is  the  ultimate  of  young  married  life  — 
children.  Of  course,"  he  added,  slowly,  "  couples  are  not 

212 


ORLEAN  RECEIVES  A  LETTER  213 

always  ready  they  feel,  but  such  does  not  wait.  We  are 
not  always  ready  to  die,  but  old  death  comes  when  he  gets 
ready  and  there's  no  use  trying  to  argue  a  delay.  So  now, 
instead  of  looking  distressed,  just  fancy  what  a  great  thing, 
a  beautiful  and  heavenly  thing  after  all  it  is,  and  be  real 
nice."  He  kissed  her  again  and  assisted  her  from  the 
buggy,  and  while  he  drove  to  his  work  she  went  into  the 
house  and  picked  up  a  letter. 
It  was  from  Ethel,  and  ran: 

"  My  dear  sister: 

"  I  am  writing  you  to  say  that  I  am  very  unhappy.  You 
cannot  imagine  how  disagreeable,  how  very  inconvenient  it 
is  to  be  as  I  am.  Never  did  I  want  a  child  —  or  children ; 
but  that  silly  man  I'm  married  to  is  so  crazy  for  a  family 
that  he  has  given  me  no  peace. 

"  As  a  result  I  must  sit  around  the  house  during  these 
beautiful  summer  days  and  be  satisfied  to  look  out  of  the 
window  and  go  nowhere.  Oh,  it  is  distressing,  and  I  am  so 
mad  at  times  I  can  seem  not  to  see !  Can  you  sense  it : 
Him  so  anxious  for  a  family,  when  what  he  earns  is  hardly 
sufficient  to  keep  us  in  comfort  and  maintain  the  payments 
on  the  home.  I  have  tried  to  reason  with  him  on  the  score, 
but  it  is  no  use  at  all.  So  while  I  sit  around  so  angry  I 
cannot  see  straight,  he  dances  around  gleefully,  wondering 
whether  it  will  be  a  girl  or  a  boy ! 

"  Now,  I  thought  I  would  write  you  in  time  so  that  you 
could  protect  yourself.  I  am,  therefore,  sending  you  cer- 
tain receipts  which  have  been  given  me  —  but  too  late! 
They  will  not  be  again,  though  —  trust  me  to  attend  to  that ! 
Don't  wait  too  long,  and  use  them  as  per  direction.  Do 
it  and  run  no  chance  of  getting  to  be  as  I  am. 

"  I  hope  you  are  well  and  write  me  any  time  anything 
happens,  and  if  these  don't  work,  then  tell  me  right  quick 
and  I  will  send  you  something  that  is  sure.  I  depend  on 
you  taking  care  of  yourself  now,  and  don't  let  anybody  put 
foolishness  in  your  head. 


214 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  Hoping  to  hear  from  you  soon,  and  that  you  are  safe  as 
yet.  believe  me  to  be,  As  ever  your  sister, 

"  ETHEL/' 

When  she  had  completed  the  letter,  she  was  thoughtful  as 
her  eyes  wandered  out  to  where  her  husband  worked  away 
in  the  field  beyond.  She  tried  to  see  a  few  months  ahead. 
It  was  then  midsummer,  and  Ethel  and  her  father  and  all 
the  girls  were  writing  her  already  that  they  supposed  they 
might  as  well  not  expect  her  until  Xmas.  But  Jean  had 
intimated  already  that  he  did  not  expect  to  go  to  Chicago 
Xmas.  Still,  that  was  several  months  away,  and  the  dry 
weather  of  which  he  was  complaining  at  the  present,  might 
be  offset  by  rain  soon.  So  she  might  get  to  see  old  Chicago 
Xmas  after  all.  But  she  would  be  unable  to  go  out  if  she 
did  go  to  the  city  Xmas  with  what  she  knew  now.  She 
pondered,  and  while  she  did  so,  she  read  through  certain 
receipts  her  sister  had  sent  her.  One  was  very  simple,  and 
she  was  tempted.  It  stated  that  the  blossom  of  a  certain 
weed  was  positive  when  made  into  a  tea. 

She  was  thoughtful  a  moment,  and  her  eyes  wandered 
again  toward  where  her  husband  worked  in  the  field. 
Finally  they  fell  upon  the  creek  that  ran  near  the  house, 
and  she  gave  a  start  as  she  saw  growing  upon  its  banks, 
a  peculiar  weed  with  purple  blossom.  She  wondered  what 
kind  of  weeds  they  were.  She  made  a  mental  note  of  the 
same  and  decided  that  when  her  husband  came  to  luncheon 
she  would  ask  him.  She  sighed  then  as  she  thought  of  the 
months  to  come,  and  what  was  to  come  with  it.  Presently, 
having  nothing  else  urgent  to  do,  she  picked  up  paper,  pen 
and  ink  and  replied  to  Ethel's  letter : 

"  My  dear  sister: 

"  Receipt  of  your  recent  letter  is  here  acknowledged,  and 


ORLEAN  RECEIVES  A  LETTER     215 

in  reply,  will  say  that  I  have  read  the  same  carefully,  and 
made  a  note  of  what  you  said. 

4<  I  hardly  know  how  to  reply  to  what  you  set  forth  in 
your  letter,  and  I  am  not  fully  decided.  But  I  might  as 
well  admit  that  I  have  just  discovered  that  I  also  am  to  be- 
come a  mother  and,  Jean,  like  Glavis,  is  tickled  to  death! 
I  just  told  him  this  morning  and  he  said  it  was  the  happiest 
moment  he  had  experienced  since  we  have  been  married. 

4<  I  am  entirely  at  a  loss  what  to  do ;  but  I  will  consult 
him  regarding  it.  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  do  as  you  ad- 
vise —  not  let  him  know  anything  — because  that  would 
hardly  be  fair.  He  is  just  as  good  to  me  as  he  can  be,  and 
considers  my  every  need.  Sometimes  I  do  not  think  he 
loves  me  as  much  as  I  would  wish,  but  what  can  I  do !  He 
is  my  husband  and  gives  me  all  his  attention.  I  am,  there- 
fore, afraid  that  he  will  object  to  the  measures  you  sug- 
gest. I  am  very  much  afraid  he  will,  but  I  will  ask  him. 

"  He's  a  perfect  dear,  so  jolly,  so  popular  everywhere 
about,  and,  I  repeat,  so  good  to  me  that  I  hardly  think  my 
conscience  would  be  clear  if  I  did  something  in  secret  and 
something  that  he  would  not  like. 

"  In  the  meantime,  thanking  you  for  your  suggestions, 
and  begging  you  not  to  act  foolish,  I  am, 

"  Your  affectionate  sister, 

"  ORLEAN." 

Jean  Baptiste  drove  into  the  yard  at  noon  singing  cheer- 
fully. He  was  met  by  his  wife  at  the  gate  which  she 
opened.  The  wind  was  blowing  from  the  south,  and  the  air 
was  very  hot.  It  had  been  blowing  from  that  direction  for 
days.  He  stopped  singing  while  he  unhitched  the  horses 
and  gazed  anxiously  toward  the  northwest. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  she  inquired,  observing  the  old  frown 
upon  his  face.  He  shook  his  head  before  replying,  and  tried 
to  smile. 

"  This  wind." 

"The  wind?" 


216  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Yes.  It's  terribly  hot.  It's  awfully  drying.  The  oats 
are  suffering,  the  wheat  is  hurt.  I  wish  it  would  rain,  and 
rain  soon,"  whereat  he  shook  his  head  again  and  his  frown 
grew  deeper. 

He  led  the  horses  to  the  well  to  drink  and  while  they 
were  drinking  she  stood  near,  holding  her  hands  and  look- 
ing at  the  patch  of  strange  weeds  that  were  in  blossom 
near.  Presently  she  observed  him,  and,  seeing  that  his 
mind  was  concerned  with  problems,  she  would  satisfy  her 
mind. 

"  Jean !  "  she  called. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  abstractedly. 

"What  kind  of  weeds  are  those?"  and  she  pointed  to 
the  wild  blossoms. 

"  Those ! "  he  said,  his  mind  struggling  between  what  he 
was  thinking  about  and  the  question.  "  Oh,  those  are  evil 
weeds,"  he  concluded,  and  turning,  led  his  horses  into  the 
barn. 

"  Evil  weeds ! "  she  echoed.  Slowly  she  turned  and 
looked  again.  She  was  strangely  frightened.  Then  taking 
courage,  she  went  playfully  to  where  they  grew,  and, 
gathering  a  bunch  in  a  sort  of  bouquet,  carried  them  into  the 
house,  laid  them  down,  and  began  to  place  the  meal  upon 
the  table. 

"  Why,  Orlean,"  she  heard,  and  turned  to  meet  her  hus- 
band. "  What  are  you  doing  with  these  old  things  in 
here!  My  dear,  you  could  find  something  better  for  the 
table  than  these  things !  Just  outside  the  fence  in  the  road 
roses  are  blooming  everywhere,  and  the  air  is  charged  with 
their  sweet  fragrance."  He  paused  briefly  and  held  them 
to  his  nose.  "  And,  besides,  they  stink.  Booh !  "  he  cried, 
holding  them  away.  "  They  make  me  sick !  Now,  if  you'll 
agree  I'll  throw  these  things  away  and  run  out  into  the  road 


ORLEAN  RECEIVES  A  LETTER  217 

and  get  you  a  big  bunch  of  roses.  Will  that  be  all  right, 
dear?"  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  he  did  not  understand  why  her 
eyes  were  downcast. 

"  Good !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  she  was  glad  to  see  that  the 
frown  upon  his  face  was  gone,  if  only  for  a  while.  "  I'll 
bring  you  some  nice  flowers.  You  know,"  he  paused  in 
the  doorway  and  turned  to  her,  "  I  never  liked  this  weed, 
anyhow.  I  have  always  connected  them  with  all  that's  vile 
and  evil."  So  saying,  he  turned  and  a  few  minutes  later 
she  heard  his  voice  coming  cheerfully  from  the  road  where 
he  picked  the  various  shades  of  roses. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  said  he  pleasantly,  "  I  have  brought  you 
a  real  bouquet,"  and  he  placed  the  vase  containing  the  same 
in  the  center  of  the  table,  stood  back  and  regarded  the 
flowers  admiringly. 

"  Why,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  his  eyes  widening, 
"what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  she  stammered  more  than  spoke. 

"  Now  there  must  be  something  ?  "  While  standing  where 
he  was  he  caught  sight  of  Ethel's  letter.  Immediately  she 
reached  forth  to  snatch  it  from  beneath  his  gaze.  He  made 
no  effort  to  take  it,  but  regarded  her  in  the  meantime 
wonderingly.  The  receipt  concerning  the  weed  lay  in  plain 
sight,  and  he  could  hardly  help  reading  it.  She  caught  it 
up  then,  while  he  still  looked  after  her  wonderingly.  He 
raised  his  hand  to  his  head  and  was  thoughtful,  before 
saying: 

"  Why  were  you  so  disturbed  over  me  seeing  the  letter, 
Orlean?  You  have  never  been  so  before.  Of  course,"  he 
said,  and  hesitated,  and  then  went  on  patiently,  "  I  have  no 
wish  to  pry  into  women's  affairs  or  secrets,  but  I  am  curious 
to  know  why  you  acted  as  you  did  ?  " 


218  THE  HOMESTEADER 

She  was  an  emotional  girl.  Never  in  her  life  had  she 
violated  the  rules  of  her  parents,  and  she  had  never  thought 
of  disobeying,  or  keeping  secrets  from  her  husband.  When 
she  was  confronted  with  the  situation,  she  broke  down  there- 
upon, and  crying  on  his  breast,  told  him  all  the  letter  con- 
tained, and  what  the  receipt  meant. 

He  listened  patiently  and  when  she  was  through  he  hesi- 
tated before  speaking.  After  a  moment  he  led  her  to  the 
table,  sat  down,  and  fell  to  eating  the  luncheon. 

"  When  we  have  dined,"  he  paused  after  a  few  minutes 
to  remark,  "  and  you  have  washed  the  dishes,  we  will  spare 
a  few  minutes  for  a  talk,  Orlean." 

"  Now,"  he  resumed  at  the  appointed  time,  "  when  we 
married,  Orlean,  it  was  my  hope  —  and  I  feel  sure  'twas 
yours,  that  we  would  live  happily." 

"Of  course,  Jean,"  she  agreed  tremulously. 

"  Then,  dear,  there  are  certain  things  we  should  come  to 
an  understanding  thereto  lest  we  find  our  lives  at  variance. 
To  begin  with,  I  wish  your  sister  would  not  write  you  such 
letters  as  the  one  you  received  today.  But,  if  she  must  and 
offer  —  yes,  criminal  advice,  I  trust  you  will  not  incline 
toward  such  seriously.  You  and  I,  as  well  as  those  who 
have  gone  before  us ;  and  as  those  who  must  perforce  come 
after  us,  did  not  come  into  this  world  altogether  by  ours 
or  others'  providence.  And  if  the  world,  and  the  people 
in  the  world  are  growing  wicked,  as  yet,  thank  God,  race 
suicide  has  not  come  to  rule !  "  He  was  meditatively  silent 
then  for  a  time,  gazing  as  if  into  space  off  across  the  sun- 
kist  fields: 

"  First,"  he  resumed,  "  selfishness  is  a  bad  patient  to 
nurse.  Secondly,  we  must  appreciate  that  ours  —  our  lives 
have  a  duty  to  fulfill.  Bringing  children  into  the  world 


ORLEAN  RECEIVES  A  LETTER 


219 


and  rearing  them  to  clean  and  healthy  man  and  womanhood 
is  that  duty  —  our  greatest  duty.  And  now  with  regards  to 
that  receipt,  or  receipts. 

"  I  will  not  seek  to  deny  that  such  practices  are  not  in 
some  measure  a  custom.  Such  very  often  are  given 
thoughtlessly  as  to  the  infinite  harm,  ill  health  and  unhappi- 
ness  they  might  later  bring.  But  the  fact  that  others  culti- 
vate and  heed  such  is  no  reason,  dear,  do  you  feel,  that 
we  should  ?  " 

"  No,  Jean,"  she  admitted  without  hesitation  and  very 
humbly. 

"  I  feel  more  inspired  to  say  this  at  this  point  in  our  new 
union,  Orlean,  because  I  cannot  believe  that  it  is  your 
nature  to  be  wicked;  to  wilfully  practice  and  condone  the 
wrong." 

"  Oh,  Jean,"  she  cried,  moving  toward  him ;  laying  her 
hands  upon  him,  and  seeking  his  eyes  with  her  soul 
standing  out  in  hers.  "  You  are  so  noble  and  so  good," 
and  in  the  next  minute  she  was  weeping  silently  upon  his 
shoulder. 

The  dry  weather  continued  over  all  the  West,  and  for 
two  weeks  the  wind  remained  in  the  south,  and  blew  al- 
most day  and  night.  Heretofore,  it  had  been  known  to 
blow  not  more  than  a  week  at  the  most,  before  the  heat 
would  be  broken  by  a  rain.  And  coincident  with  the  heat 
and  drought,  the  crops  began  to  fire,  plants  of  all  kinds 
to  wither,  and  every  one  in  the  country  of  our  story  became 
ominous. 

But  the  Creator  seemed  to  be  with  the  struggling  people  of 
the  new  country,  the  drought  was  broken  by  rain  before  the 
crops  were  destroyed ;  the  harvest  was  very  good,  and  with 


220  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  completion  of  the  same,  Orlean  met  her  husband  one 
evening  with  a  letter,  announcing  that  her  father  was  com- 
ing to  visit  soon.  And  the  next  day  they  got  another 
letter  —  no,  a  paper.  It  was  a  summons,  and  concerned 
Orlean. 


CHAPTER  X 

EUGENE   CROOK 

TRIPP  COUNTY,  laying  just  to  the  west  of  the  town 
of  Dallas  and  where  Jean  Baptiste  had  purchased  the 
relinquishments  for  his  people  was  a  large  county 
and  rich  in  soil.  There  had  been  little  delay  on  the  part  of 
the  railroad  company  in  extending  their  line  into  it.  But 
before  this  occurred  —  before  even  the  county  had  been 
thrown  open  to  the  settlers,  new  promoters,  conscious  of  the 
great  success  which  had  been  achieved  by  the  men  who  had 
promoted  Dallas,  purchased  an  allotment  from  an  Indian, 
or  a  breed  and  started  a  town  thereon  almost  directly  in  the 
center*  of  the  county  in  a  valley  of  a  creek  known  as  the 
Dog  Ear. 

And  it  was  about  this  time  that  a  political  ring  was 
formed  in  the  newer  county  for  the  avowed  and  subtle 
purpose  of  securing  the  county  seat.  Settlement  on  the 
whole  had  not  as  yet  been  possible,  so  the  politics  included 
the  rabble.  The  cowboy,  and  the  ex-cowboy;  saloon  men, 
bartenders  —  some  freighters,  squaw  men  and  cattle  thieves 
represented  the  voters.  So  it  happened  that  before  the 
bona-fide  settlers  had  a  chance  in  the  way  of  political  ex- 
pression, they  found  the  county  organized,  controlled  and 
exploited  by  this  ilk.  But,  as  we  have  already  stated,  a 
town  in  the  West  —  nor  the  East  for  that  matter  —  is  ever 
a  town  until  a  railway  has  found  its  way  thither. 

The  difficulty  began  when  the  survey  was  run.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  the  county  seat  had  been  secured 

221 


222  THE  HOMESTEADER 

by  the  promoters  of  the  town  in  the  valley  of  the  Dog  Ear, 
the  surveyors,  from  the  route  they  took,  did  not  seem  to 
have  had  any  orders  to  go  via  of  Lamro,  the  county  seat  in 
question.  On  the  contrary,  they  went  smack  through  a 
section  of  land  that  had  been  secured  in  due  time  by  the 
promoters  who  had  made  Dallas  possible  as  a  town. 

Where  the  line  of  the  survey  stretched,  less  than  two 
miles  northwest  of  the  county  seat,  they  started  a  town, 
and  were  now  bidding  the  townspeople  and  business  men 
of  the  county  seat  to  move  their  building  over.  A  bitter 
fight  was  the  answer  —  at  the  start.  A  railroad  is  every- 
thing almost  to  an  aspiring  town,  and  these  people  were 
capable  of  appreciating  the  fact.  As  a  result,  the  little 
town  in  the  valley  a  few  months  later,  was  no  more.  An- 
other election  was  held  and  through  the  same  the  bona  fide 
settlers  asserted  their  rights  and  administered  a  severe  re- 
buke by  defeating  the  town  in  the  valley  and  electing  the 
new  town  which  had  been  entitled  Winner  as  the  county 
seat. 

Nevertheless,  a  few  people  remained  in  what  was  left  of 
the  valley  town.  Some  were  unable  to  move  their  build- 
ings, others  were  indifferent,  while  others  still  remained 
there  for  purposes  of  their  own. 

Among  those  who  remained,  there  was  a  banker,  whose 
little  bank  reposed  all  alone  with  caves  and  broken  side- 
walks and  all  the  leavings  of  the  moved  away  town  about. 
His  name  was  Crook,  Eugene  Crook,  and  it  was  common 
knowledge  that  he  was  fond  of  his  name  and  conducted  his 
affairs  so  as  to  justify  it.  'Gene  Crook  would  rather,  it  was 
said,  acquire  something  by  beating  some  one  in  a  deal  than 
to  secure  it  honestly.  He  possessed  an  auto,  and  had  busi- 
ness to  the  northwest  of  the  town  some  fifteen  or  eighteen 
miles,  and  had  been  seen  in  the  neighborhood  quite  often. 


EUGENE  CROOK  223 

Perhaps  it  was  due  in  some  measure  to  an  unscrupulous 
character  who  had  drawn  a  claim  in  those  parts,  and  pre- 
tended to  be  homesteading  there;  but  who  in  truth  home- 
steaded  more  around  the  saloons  of  Winner  and  Crook's 
town  than  he  did  on  the  claim.  His  name  was  James  J. 
Spaight. 

James  J.  Spaight,  and  Eugene  Crook  were  very  close. 
'Gene  Crook  had  advanced  Spaight  considerable  money  to- 
wards his  claim,  and  had  him  tied  up  in  many  ways,  there- 
fore, they  were  understood  cohorts. 

"  They  are  never  here,"  said  Spaight,  jumping  from  the 
auto  and  sweeping  his  hand  about  over  a  beautiful  quarter 
section  of  land,  one  of  the  finest  in  the  county. 

"  But  I  see  a  sod  shack  over  in  the  draw,"  returned  Crook. 
"  They  have  apparently  called  themselves  establishing  a 
residence  on  the  land." 

"  Yes ;  but  let  me  tell  you,"  said  Spaight.  "  I  can  get  you 
this  piece  of  land  —  I  can  win  it  for  you  through  contest. 
I  know  a  thing  or  two,  and  I  believe  when  we  let  the  fellow 
know  that  we've  got  him  dead  to  right,  he'll  weaken,  and 
sell  it  to  you  for  a  song." 

"  Well,"  said  Crook,  thoughtfully,  "  we'll  drive  back  to 
town  and  consult  Duval  about  it." 

On  the  way  they  drove  by  the  homesteaders  near  and 
held  subtle  conversations  with  many,  always  in  the  end 
ascertaining  how  many  times  the  people  had  been  seen  on 
the  claim  they  had  just  left. 

When  they  returned  to  the  town  in  the  valley,  and  retired 
into  the  private  office  of  the  little  bank,  Spaight  went  for 
Duval,  a  lawyer,  who  came  forthwith.  He  was  a  tall,  lean 
creature  who  attracted  attention  by  his  unusual  height  and 
leanness.  He,  also,  was  one  of  the  "  left  overs."  He  was 
told  of  the  beautiful  homestead,  and  that  the  claimant  had 


224  THE  HOMESTEADER 

been  seen  only  a  few  times  there,  and  of  the  proposition  to 
contest  it. 

"  Who  holds  the  place,  did  you  say  ?  "  inquired  Duval  in 
his  deep,  droll  voice,  crossing  his  legs  judiciously. 

"  Why,  a  nigger  woman,"  said  Spaight. 

"  A  Negro  woman  ?  " 

"  Yes,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  "  pursued  Spaight,  his 
eyes  widening.  "  I  told  Crook  that  if  he  worked  a  bluff 
good  and  right  he  could  more  than  likely  scare  them  out. 
A  nigger  in  a  white  man's  country !  " 

Crook  smiled;  Duval  was  thoughtful. 

"  What's  her  name  —  this  Negress  ?  Is  she  a  single 
woman  or  married  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  was  single  when  she  took  it,  of  course.  But 
she's  got  married  since.  I  think  the  guy  she  married 
put  up  the  money,  and  that's  where  we  have  them  again." 

"  And  the  name  ?  "  inquired  Duval  again. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Baptiste.  That's  it.  Jean  Baptiste  is  her  hus- 
band's name.'* 

"  Oh,  hell ! "  cried  Duval,  and  spat  upon  the  floor. 

"  Why  —  what's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Crook  and  Spaight 
in  chorus. 

"  I  was  struck  with  the  joke." 

"The  joke?" 

"  Yes.     The  bluffing." 

"But  we  don't  understand?" 

"  Then  you  ought  to.  Jean  Baptiste,  huh !  You'll  bluff 
Jean  Baptiste!  Say,  that's  funny."  Suddenly  his  face 
took  on  a  cold  hard  expression.  "  Why,  that's  one  of  the 
shrewdest,  one  of  the  wisest,  one  of  the  most  forcible  men 
in  this  country.  Have  you  never  heard  of  Jean  Baptiste? 
Oh,  you  fools !  He's  worth  forty  thousand  dollars  —  made 
it  himself  and  is  not  over  twenty-five." 


EUGENE  CROOK  225 

"  Is  that  so?  "  they  echoed,  taken  aback. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so,  and  everybody  in  the  county 
knows  it." 

"  But  they  haven't  lived  on  the  place  as  they  should ! " 
protested  Spaight,  weakly. 

"  Something  like  yourself,"  laughed  Duval.  Spaight  col- 
ored guiltily. 

"  But  I  can  prove  it,"  insisted  Spaight. 

"  Well,  in  so  far  as  that  goes,  I  wouldn't  doubt  but 
they  have  not  lived  on  the  land.  Baptiste  owns  a  lot  of 
land  in  the  county  east,  and  the  chances  are  that  he's  been 
so  busy  that  his  wife  has  neglected  to  stay  on  the  claim  as 
she  should  have.  Yes,  that  is  quite  likely." 

"Then  we  can  contest  it?"  cried  Spaight. 

"Of  course.  You  can  contest  any  place  so  far  as  that 
goes." 

"  Well,  that's  what  we  intend  to  do.  And  I  have  the 
goods  on  him  and  am  sure  we  can  win." 

"  They're  all  sure  of  that  when  they  start,"  said  Duval, 
sarcastically.  "  But  I  want  to  disillusion  you.  If  you  con- 
test the  place  then  do  so  with  a  realization  of  what  we  are 
up  against.  Don't  go  down  there  with  any  *  rough  stuff ' 
or  with  a  delusion  that  you  are  going  to  meet  a  weakling. 
Go  down  there  with  the  calm,  considerate  understanding 
that  you  are  going  to  vie  with  a  man  all  through,  and  that 
man  is  Jean  Baptiste.  And  while  I'll  take  the  case  and  do 
what  I  can,  before  we  start,  I'd  advise  that  you  keep  away 
from  that  fellow  as  much  as  possible." 

"  Well,  now,  to  be  frank,  Duval,"  said  Crook,  "  What 
do  you  think  of  it  anyhow  ?  " 

Duval  regarded  him  closely  a  moment  out  of  his  small 
eyes.  And  then  spoke  slowly,  easily,  carefully.  "  Well, 
Crook,  being  frank  with  you,  I  don't  think  you  can  beat  that 


226  THE  HOMESTEADER 

fellow  fairly.  No  one  will  beat  Jean  Baptiste  in  a  fair 
fight.  But  of  course,"  he  added,  "  there  are  other  ways. 
Yes,  and  when  the  time  is  right  —  if  ever,  you  may  try  the 
other  way." 


W 


CHAPTER  XI 

REVEREND   MC  CARTHY   PAYS  A  VISIT 

44  \X  7"ELL,"  said  Baptiste  to  his  wife,  following  the 
service  of  the  summons.  "  We're  up  against 
a  long,  irksome  and  expensive  contest  case." 
Under  his  observation  had  come  many  of  such.  Only  those 
who  have  homesteaded  or  have  been  closely  related  to  such 
can  in  full  appreciate  the  annoyance,  the  years  of  annoy- 
ance and  uncertainty  with  which  a  contest  case  is  fraught. 
Great  fiction  has  been  created  from  such ;  greater  could  be. 
Oh,  the  nerve  racking,  the  bitterness  and  very  often  the 
sinister  results  that  have  grown  out  of  one  person  trying  to 
secure  the  place  of  another  without  the  other's  consent. 
Murder  has  been  committed  times  untold  as  a  sequel  —  but 
getting  back  to  Jean  Baptiste  and  his  wife. 

He  was  inclined  to  be  more  provoked  than  ordinarily, 
for  the  reason  that  by  sending  his  wife  —  at  least  taking 
her  to  the  homestead,  he  knew  he  could  have  avoided  the 
contest.  As  a  rule  places  are  not  contested  altogether 
without  a  cause.  He  felt  that  it  was  —  and  it  no  doubt  was 
—  due  to  his  effort  to  farm  his  own  land  and  assist  his 
folks  in  holding  their  claims  as  well.  He  had  discovered 
before  he  married  Orlean  that  she  was  likely  to  prove  much 
unlike  his  sister,  who  possessed  the  strength  of  her  con- 
victions, for  she  was  on  the  clinging  vine  order.  Being 
extremely  childish,  this  was  further  augmented  by  a  stream 
of  letters  from  Chicago,  giving  volumes  of  advice  in  re- 

227 


228  THE  HOMESTEADER 

gards  to  something  the  advisors  had  not  a  very  keen  idea  of 
themselves.  He  also  was  cautioned  not  to  expose  her.  So 
she  had,  in  truth  only  gone  to  her  homestead  when  taken 
by  him,  returning  when  he  did  as  well.  The  fact  that  he 
had  arranged  in  regards  to  the  renting  of  his  land  the  next 
season  would  be  no  evidence  to  assist  him  before  the  bar 
that  would  hear  his  case. 

The  contest  against  his  wife's  homestead  did  not,  of 
course  alter  his  plans  in  any  way.  He  would  continue  along 
the  lines  he  had  started.  But  there  were  other  things  that 
came  to  annoy  him  at  the  same  time.  Chiefly  among  these 
was  his  wife's  father.  Always  there  had  to  be  some  ado 
when  it  came  to  him.  He  had  reared  his  daughter,  as  be- 
fore intimated,  to  consider  him  of  the  world's  greatest 
men  —  especially  the  Negro  race's,  and  to  avoid  friction, 
Baptiste  came  gradually  to  see  that  he  would  almost  have 
to  be  beholden  unto  this  creature  in  whom  he  was  positively 
not  very  deeply  interested. 

N.  Justine  McCarthy's  accomplishments  were  of  a  nature 
which  Baptiste  would  rather  have  avoided.  The  fact  that 
he  had  been  a  Presiding  Elder  in  one  of  the  leading  denomi- 
nations of  Negro  churches  out  of  which  he  managed  to 
filch  about  a  thousand  a  year,  was  in  a  measure  foreign  to 
his  son-in-law.  And  the  Reverend  was  not  an  informed  or 
practical  man. 

The  truth  was  that  all  the  pretensions  made  to  the  Elder, 
flattering  him  into  feeling  he  was  a  great  man,  Jean  Baptiste 
came  to  regard  as  a  deliberate  fawning  to  flatter  an  extreme 
vanity.  Far  from  being  even  practical,  N.  J.  McCarthy 
was  by  disposition,  environment  and  cultivation,  narrow, 
impractical,  hypocritical,  envious  and  spiteful.  As  to  how 
much  he  was  so,  not  even  did  Jean  Baptiste  fully  realize 
at  the  time,  but  came  to  learn  later  from  experience. 


REVEREND  MCCARTHY  PAYS  A  VISIT 


229 


He  was  expected  in  early  October.  The  hearing  of  the 
contest  was  to  convene  a  few  days  later,  so  as  a  greeting 
to  his  Majesty,  he  was  to  be  given  an  opportunity  to  see 
Orlean  on  the  stand  and  mercilessly  grilled  by  non-senti- 
mental lawyers.  Baptiste  was  appreciative  of  what  might 
result,  and  wished  the  visit  could  have  been  deferred  for 
a  while. 

Another  source  of  irritation  continually,  was  Ethel's  let- 
ters, and  his  wife's  nervousness  over  the  child  that  was  to 
come.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  had  been  dis- 
obedient. Secretly  she  had,  after  many  misgivings,  fears 
and  indecisions,  brewed  a  tea  from  the  weed  as  per  Ethel's 
prescription  —  but  in  vain !  Later,  the  guilt,  the  never-to-be- 
forgotten  guilt;  the  unborn  child  that  refused  the  poison, 
seemed  to  haunt  her.  And  she  could  not  tell  her  husband. 
But  this  was  not  all.  Ethel's  letters  continued  to  come, 
filled  with  the  same  advice ;  the  same  suggestions ;  the  same 
condemnation  of  motherhood  —  and  she  was  compelled  to 
keep  it  all  a  hopeless  secret  from  the  man  she  had  sworn 
to  love  and  obey. 

One  thing  was  agreed  upon,  they  decided  not  to  inform 
the  Elder  —  at  least,  in  so  far  as  Orlean  was  concerned,  she 
left  it  to  Jean,  and  Jean,  with  as  many  troubles  as  he  cared 
for  and  more,  to  deal  with,  was  becoming  perceptibly  irri- 
tant. So  with  this  state  of  affairs  prevailing,  the  Reverend 
finally  arrived  for  his  long  anticipated  visit. 

The  letter  advising  the  day  he  would  arrive  did  not  hap- 
pen to  reach  them  in  time  to  meet  him.  Accordingly, 
neither  was  at  the  station  to  greet  him,  but,  recalling  that 
Baptiste  had  spoken  of  the  Freedom  and  no  narrow  pre- 
judices and  customs  to  irk  one,  the  Elder  went  forthwith 
to  the  leading  hotel  in  Gregory  where  he  was  accorded 
considerable  attention  as  a  guest.  This  indeed  satisfied  his 


230 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


vanity,  and  he  was  taken  much  notice  of  by  those  about 
because  of  his  distinguished  appearance.  A  fact  that  he 
seldom  ever  lost  sight  of. 

But  Baptiste  happened  to  be  in  town  that  night  on  horse- 
back, and  when  the  train  had  come  and  gone,  he  inquired 
carelessly  of  a  fellow  he  met,  and  who  had  come  in  on  the 
train,  if  he  had  seen  a  colored  man  aboard. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other.  "  An  elderly  man,  very  dis- 
tinguished looking." 

"  My  father-in-law !  "  ejaculated  Baptiste,  and  went  forth- 
with to  the  hotel  to  find  his  erstwhile  compatriot  very  much 
at  ease  among  those  filling  the  place. 

"  And  it's  a  great  way  to  greet  me,"  exclaimed  the  Rever- 
end, cheerfully,  upon  seeing  him.  Baptiste  made  haste  to 
explain  that  he  had 'not  been  aware  of  the  day  when  he 
would  arrive. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  my  son,"  said  the  other  heartily. 
"AndhowisOrlean?" 

"  Fine !     She'll  be  tickled  to  death  to  see  you." 

"And  I  her."  The  old  gent  was  very  cheerful.  Such 
a  trip  was  much  to  him.  A  life  spent  among  the  simple 
black  people  to  whom  he  preached  afforded  little  contrast 
compared  with  what  was  about  him  now.  And,  pompous 
by  disposition,  he  was  thrilled  by  the  diversity.  Baptiste 
decided  thereupon  to  try  to  make  his  sojourn  an  agreeable 
one. 

"  Now,  there  is  an  old  neighbor  of  mine  in  town  with 
a  buggy,  and  I'll  see  him  and  figure  to  have  him  take  you 
out  with  him,  as  I  am  in  on  horseback." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  the  Elder,  and  Baptiste  went  for 
the  neighbor  who  happened  to  be  a  German  with  a  very 
conspicuous  voice.  He  found  him  at  a  saloon  where  the 


REVEREND  MCCARTHY  PAYS  A  VISIT      231 

old  scout  was  pretty  well  "  pickled "  from  imbibing  too 
freely  in  red  liquor. 

"  Sure  thing,"  he  roared  in  his  big  voice  when  Baptiste 
stated  his  errand.  "  Bring  him  down  here  and  I'll  buy  him 
a  drink." 

"  But  he's  a  preacher,"  cautioned  Baptiste  with  a  laugh. 

"  A  preacher !  Well,  I'll  be  damned ! "  exclaimed  the 
German,  humorously.  Whereupon  he  ordered  drinks  for 
the  house,  and  two  for  himself.  Baptiste  grinned. 

"  I  shall  now  depart/'  essayed  the  German,  swaying  not 
too  steadily  before  the  bar,  and  raising  his  glass,  "  to  be- 
come sanctimonious  and  good,"  and  drained  his  glass.  The 
crowd  roared. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  called  the  German  loudly,  as  he  drew  his 
team  to  a  stop  before  the  hotel.  Baptiste  got  out,  went 
in  and  called  to  the  Reverend.  The  other  came  forward 
quickly,  carrying  his  bags  and  other  accessories. 

"  Ah-ha ! "  roared  the  German  from  the  buggy,  sociably, 
"  So  there  you  are !  " 

"  Why  —  Jean  —  the  man  is  —  drunk,  is  he  not  ?  "  whis- 
pered the  Elder. 

"  But  he's  alright  —  gets  that  way  when  he  comes  to 
town,  but  is  perfectly  safe  withal."  The  Reverend  stood 
for  a  moment,  regarding  the  other  dubiously. 

"  Come  on,  brother,  and  meet  me !  "  called  the  German 
again  in  a  voice  sufficiently  loud  almost  to  awaken  the  dead. 

"  But,  Jean,"  said  the  Reverend,  lowly  but  apprehen- 
sively, "  I  don't  know  whether  I  want  to  ride  with  a 
drunken  man  or  not." 

Now  it  happened  that  the  German's  ears  were  very 
keen,  and  he  overheard  the  Elder's  remark,  so  without 
ceremony,  and  while  the  Reverend  hesitated  on  the  pave- 


232  THE  HOMESTEADER 

ment,  the  German  who  did  not  like  to  be  referred  to  as 
drunk,  roared: 

"  Ah-ha !  Naw,  naw,  naw !  You  don't  have  to  ride  with 
me !  Naw,  naw,  naw ! "  And  turning  his  horses  about, 
he  went  back  to  the  saloon  where  his  voice  rang  forth  a 
minute  later  in  a  raucous  tune  as  he  unloaded  another 
schooner. 

The  Reverend  beat  a  hasty  retreat  back  into  the  hotel, 
while  Baptiste  called  after  him: 

"  I'll  send  Orlean  for  you  in  the  morning,"  and  went  to 
look  up  his  neighbor  who  had  made  himself  so  conspicu- 
ous. 

"  Well,  now,  if  this  doesn't  beat  all,"  cried  the  Reverend 
when  he  had  kissed  his  daughter  the  following  morning  and 
they  were  spinning  along  the  road  on  the  way  to  the  farm. 
"  I  would  never  have  believed  three  months  ago  had  some 
one  said  you  could  and  would  be  driving  these  mules !  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  driven  them  fifty  miles  in  a  day  —  John ! " 
she  called  suddenly  to  the  off  mule  who  was  given  to  mis- 
chievous tricks. 

"  Well,  well,"  commented  the  Reverend,  "  but  it  certainly 
beats  all." 

She  was  cheered  and  pleased  to  demonstrate  what  she 
had  learned.  They  sailed  along  the  country  side  in  the 
autumn  air,  and  talked  of  home,  Ethel,  her  mother,  Glavis 
and  Jean.  They  came  presently  to  Baptiste's  homestead 
and  viewed  with  great  delight  the  admirable  tract  of  land 
that  stretched  before  them.  She  talked  on  cheerfully  and 
told  her  father  all  that  had  passed,  of  how  happy  they 
were,  but  said  nothing  about  her  prospects  of  becoming  a 
mother.  When  they  had  passed  her  husband's  homestead 
and  were  nearing  a  corner  where  they  must  turn  to  reach 


REVEREND  MCCARTHY  PAYS  A  VISIT      233 

the  house  in  which  they  were  living,  they  passed  an  auto- 
mobile carrying  two  men.  They  bowed  lightly  and  the 
men  returned  it.  When  they  had  gotten  out  of  hearing  dis- 
tance, one  of  the  men  whispered  to  the  other : 

"  That's  her !  " 

'Gene  Crook  thereupon  turned  and  looked  after  the  re- 
treating figure  of  the  girl  in  the  buggy  whose  place  he  had 
determined  to  secure  through  subtle  methods.  But  not  even 
'Gene  Crook  himself  conceived  of  the  unusual  circumstances 
that  came  to  pass  and  brought  him  on  a  visit  to  these  self- 
same people,  later. 


CHAPTER  XII 

REVEREND   MC  CARTHY   DECIDES   TO   SET   BAPTISTE 
RIGHT,    BUT  — 


the  first  thing,  daughter,"  said  the  Rever- 
end, "when  Jean  comes  and  you  have  the  time, 
is  to  go  up  and  see  your  claim."  Orlean  swal- 
lowed, and  started  to  tell  him  that  it  was  contested;  but 
on  second  thought,  decided  to  leave  the  task  to  her  hus- 
band, and  said  instead: 

"  I  have  a  fine  claim,  papa.  Jean  says  it  is  the  best  piece 
of  land  we  have." 

"  Now  isn't  that  fine !  " 

"  It  is,"  Orlean  said,  thinking  of  her  husband. 

"  Your  husband  has  a  plenty,  my  dear,  and  we  have  been 
surprised  that  you  have  not  been  sending  money  to  Chicago 
to  have  us  buy  something  for  you." 

Orlean  swallowed  again  and  started  to  speak ;  to  say  that 
while  her  husband  was  a  heavy  land  holder,  the  crops  had 
not  been  the  best  the  year  before  and  were  not  as  good  this 
year  as  he  had  hoped  for.  Then  she  thought  Jean  could 
explain  this  better,  also,  instead  she  said  : 

"I  —  I  haven't  wanted  for  anything,  papa." 

"  No,  perhaps  not.  But  you  know  papa  always  thinks  of 
his  baby ;  always  buys  her  litle  things  and  so  on,  you  know." 
He  paused,  regarded  her  and  the  dress  she  wore.  He  rec- 
ognized it  as  one  that  she  had  bought  just  before  she  had 
gotten  married  —  forgetting  that  Jean  Baptiste  had  paid 
for  it  —  and  said: 

234 


REVEREND  MCCARTHY  DECIDES          235 

"  And  you  have  on  the  same  dress  you  wore  away  from 
Chicago !  Indeed,  and  that  is  a  spring  dress !  Why  do  you 
not  wear  some  of  your  summer  dresses?  Some  you  have 
bought  since  you  have  been  married  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  bought  —  my  husband  hasn't  —  I  haven't 
needed  any  more  clothes,  really/'  she  argued  falteringly. 
He  saw  that  she  was  keeping  something  back,  and  pur- 
sued: 

"  Why,  dear,  what  do  you  mean !  You  don't  mean  to 
say  that  Jean  hasn't  bought  you  any  dresses  since  he  mar- 
ried you,  and  him  owning  so  much  land ! " 

"  But  I  haven't  needed  any,  papa  —  I  have  not  asked  him 
for  any."  He  looked  at  her  keenly.  He  saw  that  she  was 
shielding  the  man  she  married,  but  with  this  he  had  no 
patience. 

"  Now,  now,  my  dear.  Jean  ought  not  to  treat  my  girl 
like  that.  He  ought  to  buy  you  lots  of  things,  and  pretty 
things.  I'm  rather  inclined  to  think  he  is  miserly  —  have 
rather  felt  he  was  all  the  time."  He  paused  briefly,  posed  in 
the  way  he  did  when  preaching,  and  then  went  on.  "  Yes, 
you  are  sacrificing  a  great  deal  by  coming  away  out  here 
in  a  new  country  and  living  with  him.  Yes,  yes,  my  dear. 
You  see  you  are  deprived  of  many  conveniences;  conven- 
iences that  you  have  been  accustomed  to."  He  looked 
around  the  little  house;  at  its  floor  with  only  rugs,  and  its 
simple  furniture.  "  Just  compare  this  to  the  home  you 
came  out  of.  The  good  home.  Yes,  yes.  I'm  afraid  that 
—  that  the  rough  life  your  husband  has  been  living  rather 
makes  him  forget  the  conventions  my  daughter  has  been  ac- 
customed to.  Yes,  I  think  so.  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  kind 
of  —  a  —  bring  such  to  his  attention  that  he  might  see  his 
duty.  Yes,  my  dear — " 


236  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  But,  papa !  I  —  I  —  think  you  had  —  better  not.  You 
see — "  and  she  caught  his  arm  and  was  thoughtful,  look- 
ing downward  in  the  meantime.  She  loved  Jean  Baptiste, 
but  she  was  not  a  strong  willed  person  by  nature,  train- 
ing or  disposition.  She  had  inherited  her  mother's  timid- 
ness.  At  heart  she  meant  well  to  the  man  she  married, 
but  she  had  always  been  obedient  to  her  father;  had  never 
sauced  him  and  had  never  crossed  him,  which  was  his  boast. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  of  these  things  and  that  he  knew  it, 
that  his  nature  asserted  itself. 

"  I'm  afraid  you,  like  any  newly  married  wife,  are  in- 
clined to  forget  these  things,  rather  accept  your  husband's 
excuse.  Now  your  husband  has  a  plenty,  and  can  well  af- 
ford to  give  to  you.  And,  besides,  you  —  he  should  not 
forget  the  sacrifices  you  are  making  for  him.  That  is  what 
he  should  see.  Yes,  yes.-  Now  take  Ethel,"  he  suddenly 
turned  to  her.  "Why,  Glavis  only  makes  thirteen  dollars 
a  week,  and  —  why,  Ethel  makes  him  do  just  what  she 
wants  him  to.  Buys  her  a  dress  any  time  she  wants  it;  a 
hat,  a  pair  of  shoes  —  and  whatever  she  wishes.  That's 
Ethel,"  he  ended,  forgetting  to  add  that  Glavis  also  bought 
and  paid  for  the  food  Mrs.  McCarthy  ate,  or  that  he,  him- 
self only  brought  —  and  never  bought*  things  to  eat  only 
when  he  came  into  Chicago,  three  or  five  times  a  year  — 
and  sent  a  few  things  infrequently.  But  Orlean  had  taken 
a  little  courage.  It  was  rather  unusual,  and  she  was  sur- 
prised at  herself.  She  was  surprised  that  she  dared  even 
argue  —  just  a  little  —  with  her  father.  He  had  always 
been  accepted  as  infallible  without  question.  To  get  along 
with  him  —  have  peace,  her  mother  and  she  had  always  fol- 
lowed the  rule  of  letting  everything  be  his  way,  and  be 
content  with  their  own  private  opinion  without  expression 
as  to  conclusions.  Moreover,  whether  he  was  right  or 


REVEREND  McCARTHY  DECIDES         237 

wrong,  abused  or  accused,  the  rule  was  to  praise  and  flatter 
him  notwithstanding.  And  at  such  times  they  could  depend 
on  him  to  do  much  for  them.  But  she  found  her  voice. 
Jean  Baptiste  was  her  husband,  and  she  was  not  ungrate- 
ful. He  gave  her  real  love  and  husbandry,  and  it  was  per- 
haps her  woman's  nature  to  speak  in  defense  of  her  mate. 
So  she  said : 

"  But  Jean  is  not  like  Glavis,  papa.  They  are  two  dif- 
ferent men  entirely." 

"  Well,  yes,  my  dear,"  he  said  slowly,  his  dark  face  tak- 
ing on  a  peculiar  —  and  not  very  pleasant  expression,  "  I'm 
afraid  I  will  have  to  agree  with  you.  Yes.  They  are  dif- 
ferent. Glavis  is  a  fine  boy,  though.  Don't  own  a  thousand 
acres  of  land,  but  certainly  takes  care  of  home  like  a  man. 
No,  no.  I  never  have  to  worry  about  anything.  Just  come 
home  every  few  months  to  see  that  everything  is  all  right 
—  and  find  it  so.  Yes,  that  is  Glavis.  While  Jean,"  and 
his  mind  went  quickly  back  to  an  incident  that  had  hap- 
pened twenty-one  years  before,  "  is  rather  set  in  his  ways. 
Yes,  very  much  so,  I  fear.  That  is  one  of  his  failings. 
Some  people  would  call  it  hard  headed,  but  I  should  not 
quite  call  it  that.  No.  Then,  again,"  he  paused  a  moment, 
looked  at  the  floor  and  looked  up.  "  He's  crazy  to  get  rich. 
You  see,  dear  —  of  course  you  don't  know  that.  Not  old 
enough.  That's  where  your  father  has  the  advantage  over 
you  —  and  Jean  also.  He's  older.  It's  bad  when  a  man 
is  ambitious  to  get  rich,  for  he  is  liable  to  work  himself 
and  his  wife  to  death.  Jean's  liable  to  do  that  with  you. 
Not  like  your  old  father,  you  know." 

"  Here  he  comes  now,"  she  cried  excitedly,  going  quickly 
to  the  kitchen  and  making  a  fire  and  starting  the  meal. 
Her  father  looked  after  her.  He  looked  out  the  window  to 
where  his  son-in-law  was  unhitching  his  horses.  He  looked 


238  THE  HOMESTEADER 

back  to  where  his  daughter  was  working  nervously  over  the 
stove,  and  muttered  to  himself.  "  Has  her  trained  to  run 
like  something  frightened  at  his  approach.  That's  the  same 
spirit  I  tried  to  conquer  twenty-one  years  ago  and  it  is  still 
in  him.  M-m.  I'll  have  to  look  after  that  disposition." 
And  with  .that  he  went  ^outside  to  where  his  daughter's 
husband  worked. 

"  Hello,  Reverend,"  called  Jean  cheerfully.  The  "  Rev- 
erend "  darkened  and  glowered  unseen.  He  did  not  like 
that  term  of  address.  Glavis  called  him  "  father."  That 
was  better.  But  he  returned  apparently  as  cheerful: 

"  Hello,  my  boy.     So  you  are  home  to  dinner  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Guess  it:s  ready.  She  is  very  prompt  about  hav- 
ing my  meals  on  time.  Yes.  Orlean  is  a  good  girl,  and  ap- 
preciates that  I  believe  in  always  being  on  time,"  he  rat- 
tled off. 

"  And  how  are-  the  crops  ?  " 

"  Not  so  good,  not  so  good,  I  regret  to  say,"  said  Jean 
moodily.  "  No;' to  be  truthful,  it  is  the  poorest  crop  I  have 
ever  raised.  Yes,"  he  mused  as  if  to  himself.  "And  I 
need  a  good  crop  this  year  worse  than  I  have  ever  needed 
one.  Yes,  I  sure  do. 

"  Indeed  so.  Got  lots  of  expense.  Borrowed  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  to  buy  that  land  out  there  in  Tripp  County, 
and  have  none  of  it  producing  anything.  And  on  top  of 
that  a  guy  comes  along  and  slaps  a  contest  on  Orlean's 
place,  and  so  I  have  that  on  my  hands  in  addition  to  all  the 
other  burdens.  So,  believe  me,  it  keeps  me  hopping." 

"  A  contest  on  Orlean's  place  ?    What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  Does  that  mean !  But  of  course  you  couldn't  under- 
stand," whereat,  Baptiste  tried  to  explain  to  him  what  it 
meant. 

"  So  you  see  you  find  us  with  our  troubles."    The  Rev- 


REVEREND  McCARTHY  DECIDES         239 

erend  made  no  reply  to  this.  Indeed,  he  had  never  been  able 
to  reply  to  Jean  Baptiste.  In  the  first  place,  the  man  was 
ever  too  hurried ;  moreover,  he  understood  so  little  regard- 
ing practical  business  matters  until  their  relations  had  never 
been  congenial.  When  Jean  had  watered  and  fed  his  teams 
he  came  back  to  where  the  Elder  stood  and  said: 

"  Well,  Judge,  we'll  go  in  to  dinner."  Now  the  Rever- 
end was  almost  upset.  Such  flat  expressions !  Such  a  lit- 
tle regard  for  his  caste.  Horrid!  He  started  to  speak  to 
him  regarding  his  lack  of  manners,  but  that  one  had  his 
face  in  the  tub  where  the  horses  had  drank,  washing  him- 
self eagerly.  When  he  was  through,  he  drew  water  from, 
the  well,  and  pouring  it  into  a  wash  basin  rinsed  him- 
self, and  called  for  the  towel.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so 
than  out  of  the  house  came  Orlean  with  the  goods. 

"Wash  up,"  cried  Baptiste,  pointing  to  the  horse  tub. 

"  Jean  !  "  called  his  wife  remonstratingly.  "  You  forget 
yourself.  Asking  papa  to  wash  where  the  horses  have 
drank !  You  must  be  more  thoughtful !  " 

Baptiste  laughed.  "  Beg  pardon,  Colonel.  You  see  this 
open  life  has  made  me  —  er  —  rather  informal.  But  you'll 
get  used  to  and  like  it  with  time.  Wash  up  and  let's  eat! " 

"  He's  wild,  just  wild !  "  muttered  the  Reverend,  as  he 
followed  them  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   WOLF 

OW,  ELDER,"  said  Baptiste,  getting  up  from  the 
table  without  going  through  the  usual  formalities 
of  resting  a  few  minutes  after  the  meal.  "  I've 
bought  a  building  in  town  that  I'm  going  to  move  onto 
Orlean's  place.  I'm  preparing  to  jack  it  up  and  load  it,  so 
if  you  would  like  to  come  along,  very  well,  we'll  be  glad  to 
have  you.  But  it's  rather  a  rough,  hard  task,  I'll  admit." 

"  Now,  now,  son,"  started  the  Reverend,  holding  back 
his  exasperation  with  difficulty.  His  son-in-law  had  never 
addressed  him  more  than  once  by  the  same  name.  It  was 
either  Colonel,  Judge,  Reverend,  Elder,  or  some  other 
burlesque  title  in  the  sense  used.  He  wanted  to  tell  him 
that  he  should  call  him  father,  but  before  he  had  a  chance 
to  do  so,  that  worthy  had  bounced  out  of  the  room  and  was 
heard  from  the  barn.  The  Reverend  looked  after  him  with 
a  glare. 

"  Dreadful ! "  he  exclaimed  when  the  other  was  out  of 
hearing  distance. 

"What,  papa?"  inquired  his  daughter,  regarding  him 
questioningly.  She  had  become  accustomed  to  Jean's  ways 
and  did  not  understand  her  father's  exclamation. 

"  Why,  the  man !     Your  husband !  " 

"Jean?" 

"  Such  rough  ways !  " 

240 


THE  WOLF  241 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed.  "  That's  his  way.  He  has  al- 
ways lived  alone,  you  know.  And  is  so  ambitious.  Is 
really  compelled  to  hurry  a  little  because  he  has  so  much 
to  do." 

"  Well,  I  never  saw  the  like.  I'm  afraid  he  and  Ethel 
would  never  get  along  very  well.  No,  he  —  is  rather  un- 
usual" 

"  Oh,  father.  You  must  pay  no  attention  to  that !  Jean 
is  a  fine  fellow,  a  likeable  man,  and  is  loved  by  every  one 
who  knows  him,"  she  argued,  trying  to  discourage  her 
father's  mood  to  complain.  She  had  never  been  able  to 
bring  her  father  and  husband  very  close.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  of  their  being  so  far  apart  in  all  that  made  them; 
but  she  was  aware  that  Jean  had  never  flattered  her  father, 
and  that  was  very  grave!  No  relation  had  ever  risked 
that.  Her  father  was  accustomed  to  being  flattered  by 
everybody  who  was  an  intimate  of  the  family,  and  Jean 
Baptiste  Had  come  into  the  family,  married  her,  and  ap- 
parently forgot  to  tell  the  Reverend  that  he  was  a  great 
man.  Moreover,  from  what  she  knew  of  her  husband, 
he  was  not  likely  to  do  so.  Her  mother  had  tried  to  have 
Baptiste  see  it,  she  recalled,  her  little  mother  of  whom 
Baptiste  was  very  fond  of.  As  has  been  stated  it  was  gen- 
erally known  that  her  father  was  not  very  kind-  and  patient, 
with  her  mother,  and  never  had  been. 

It  was,  moreover,  no  secret  that  her  father  was  unusually 
friendly  with  Mrs.  Pruitt.  But  she  was  not  supposed  to 
let  on  that  she  was  aware  of  such.  If  she  was  —  and  she 
certainly  was  —  she  did  not  mention  the  fact.  Jean  Bap- 
tiste knew  of  the  Reverend's  subtle  practices,  and  in  his 
mind  condemned  rather  than  admired  him  therefor.  He 
knew  that  the  Elder  expected  to  be  praised  in  spite  of  all 
these  things.  Now  what  would  it  all  come  to? 


242 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


This  thought  was  passing  through  Orlean's  mind  when 
she  heard  her  father  again : 

"  Now,  he  said  something  about  a  contest."  She  caught 
her  breath  quickly,  swallowed,  changed  color,  and  then 
managed,  hardly  above  a  whisper,  to  say : 

"Oh!" 

"  I  don't  understand.  And  he  never  takes  the  time  to  ex- 
plain anything.  Seems  to  take  for  granted  that  everybody 
should  know,  and  tries  to  know  it  all  himself,  and  it  makes 
it  very  awkward,"  he  said  complainingly. 

"  It's  all  my  fault,  papa,"  Orlean  admitted  f alteringly. 

"  Your  fault ! "  the  other  exclaimed,  not  understand- 
ing. 

"  Yes,"  she  breathed  with  eyes  downcast. 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  ?  How  can  it  be  your  fault 
when  you  have  sacrificed  the  nice  home  in  Chicago  for  this 
wilderness  ?  " 

"  But,  papa,"  she  faltered.  "  You  have  never  been  West 
•before.  You  —  you  don't  understand !  " 

"  Don't  understand ! "  cried  the  Reverend,  anger  and  im- 
patience evident.  "  What  is  there  to  understand  about  this 
wilderness  ?  " 

"  Oh,  papa,"  she  cried,  now  beseechingly.  "  You  — " 
she  halted  and  swallowed  what  she  had  started  to  say. 
And  what  she  had  started  to  say  was,  that  if  he  kept  on  like 
he  had  started,  he  would  make  it  very  difficult  for  her  to 
be  loyal  to  her  husband  and  obedient  to  him  as  she  had 
always  been;  as  she  was  trying  to  be.  Perhaps  it  was  be- 
coming difficult  for  her  already.  Subservience  to  her 
father,  who  insisted  upon  it,  and  obedience  and  loyalty  to 
her  husband  who  had  a  right  and  naturally  expected  it. 
It  was  difficult,  and  she  was  a  weak  willed  person.  Already 
her  courage  was  failing  her  and  she  was  beginning  to  sigh. 


THE  WOLF  243 

"  It  is  very  hard  on  my  daughter,  I  fear,"  said  the  Elder, 
his  face  now  full  of  emotion  and  self  pity.  "  I  worked  all 
my  life  to  raise  my  two  darlings,  and  it  grieves  me  to  see 
one  of  them  being  ground  down  by  a  man." 

"  Oh,  father,  my  husband  is  not  cruel  to  me.  He  has 
never  said  an  unkind  word.  He  is  just  as  good  to  me  as  a 
man  can  be  —  and  I  love  him."  This  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  have  satisfied  and  pacified  any  man,  even  one 
so  unscrupulous.  But  it  happens  that  in  our  story  we  have 
met  one  who  is  considerably  different  from  the  ordinary 
man.  The  substance  of  N.  Justine  McCarthy's  vanity  had 
never  been  fully  estimated  —  not  even  by  himself.  Orlean 
did  not  recall  then,  that  since  she  had  been  married  she  had 
not  written  her  father  and  repeated  what  a  great  man  he 
was.  She  had,  on  the  other  hand,  written  and  told  him 
what  a  great  man  her  husband  was.  In  her  simplicity,  she 
felt  it  was  expected  of  her  to  tell  that  one  or  the  other 
was  great.  But  here  she  had  encountered  discouragement. 
Her  husband  apparently  was  considerably  opposed  to  flat- 
tery. And  she  had  difficulty  to  have  him  see  that  it  was  an 
evidence  of  faith  on  her  part.  But  her  husband  had  not 
seen  it  that  way.  He  had  disimissed  it  as  a  waste  of  time, 
and  had  gradually  used  his  influence  with  her  to  other  ends ; 
to  the  road  they  were  following;  the  road  to  ultimate  suc- 
cess, which  could  only  be  achieved  by  grim,  practical 
methods.  And  that  was  one  of  his  words,  practical.  But 
her  father  was  speaking  again. 

"  Now  I  wish  you  would  explain  how  you  could  be  at 
fault  for  this  contest  upon  your  place,  and  why  your  hus- 
band accuses  you  of  such?" 

"  But  Jean  does  not  accuse  me  of  being  at  fault,  father," 
she  defended  weakly.  "  I  accuse  myself.  And  if  you  will 
be  just  a  little  patient,"  she  begged  almost  in  tears,  "  I'll 


244  THE  HOMESTEADER 

explain."  He  frowned  in  his  usual  way,  while  she  sighed 
unheard,  and  then  fell  to  the  task  before  her. 

"  It  is  like  this/'  she  began  with  an  effort  at  self  control. 
"  Jean  has  not  wished  to  ask  me  to  stay  on  my  claim  alone  as 
his  sister  and  grandmother  have  done,  you  see." 

"  Oh,  so  he  has  them  living  out  there  alone  like  cattle, 
helping  him  to  get  rich !  " 

"  They  do  not  live  like  cattle,  father,"  she  defended  in  the 
patient  manner  she  had  been  trained  to.  "  They  have  a 
horse  and  buggy  that  he  has  furnished  them,  and  get  all 
their  needs  at  the  stores  which  is  charged  to  him.  They 
have  good  neighbors,  awfully  nice  white  people  —  women, 
too,  who  live  alone  on  their  claims  as  his  sister  and  grand- 
mother are  doing." 

"  But  they  are  not  like  you,  daughter.  Those  are  all 
rough  people.  You  cannot  live  like  them.  You  have  been 
accustomed  to  something." 

She  sighed  unheard  again  and  did  not  try  to  explain  to 
his  Majesty  that  most  of  the  people  —  women  included  — 
were  in  a  majority  from  the  best  homes  in  the  East,  as 
well  as  families ;  that  many  had  wealth  where  she  had 
none ;  and  that  Jean's  sister  had  been  graduated  from  high 
school  and  was  very  intelligent.  It  was  difficult,  and  she 
knew  it,  to  explain  anything  to  her  father;  but  she  would 
endeavor  to  tell  him  of  the  contest. 

"  Well,  father,  since  I  was  not  on  my  place  as  I  should 
have  been,  a  man  contested  it,  and  now  we  must  fight  it  out, 
Jean  says,  so  that  is  it." 

"  M-m-m,"  sighed  that  one.  "  He's  going  to  kill  you  out 
here  to  make  him  rich.  And  then  when  you  are  dead 
and—" 

"  Please,  don't,  father,"  she  almost  screamed.  She  knew 
he  was  going  to  sagr :  "  and  in  your  grave,  he  will  marry 


From  a  painting  by  W.  M.  Farrow. 

"HE'S  GOING  TO  KILL  YOU  OUT  HERE  TO  MAKE  HIM  RICH, 
AND  THEN  WHEN  YOU  ARE  DEAD  AND"— "PLEASE  DON'T, 
FATHER!"  SHE  ALMOST  SCREAMED.  SHE  KNEW  HE  WAS 
GOING  TO  SAY:  "IN  YOUR  GRAVE,  HE  WILL  MARRY  AN- 
OTHER WOMAN  TO  ENJOY  WHAT  YOU  HAVE  DIED  FOR," 
BUT  SHE  COULD  NOT  QUITE  LISTEN  TO  THAT. 


THE  WOLF  245 

another  woman  and  bring  her  in  to  enjoy  what  you  have 
died  for."  But  she  could  not  quite  listen  to  that.  It  was 
not  fair.  It  was  not  fair  to  her  and  it  was  not  fair  to 
Jean.  She  was  surprised  at  the  way  she  felt.  She  for- 
got also,  and  for  his  benefit,  that  they  had  never  been 
very  happy  at  home  when  he  was  in  Chicago.  They  had 
only  pretended  to  be.  It  had  been  because  of  him  being 
away  all  the  time  and  their  relation  having  been  confined 
to  letters  that  they  had  been  contented.  But  Orlean  had 
made  herself  believe  for  this  occasion  that  when  he  came 
to  visit,  they  were  going  to  have  a  really  pleasant  time. 
And  now  so  soon  she  was  simply  worn  out.  She  had  be- 
come more  sensitive  of  her  tasks  in  life  than  it  had  oc- 
curred to  her  she  could  ever  be.  For  the  first  time  she  was 
getting  the  idea  that,  after  all  they  were  burdensome. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  to  town,  papa?"  she  cried, 
trying  to  be  jolly.  "  Jean  is  ready  now,  and  please  come 
along  and  see  the  nice  little  house  he  has  bought  and  is  going 
to  move  on  my  claim."  She  was  so  cheerful,  so  anxious 
to  have  him  enjoy  his  visit  that  his  vanity  for  once  took  a 
back  seat,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they  were  driving  into 
Gregory. 

As  they  drove  along  Baptiste  told  of  what  he  was  doing; 
discussing  at  length  the  West  and  what  was  being  done 
toward  its  development.  When  they  arrived  in  the  town 
they  approached  the  small  but  well  made  little  building 
that  he  had  purchased  for  $300,  and  went  inside. 

"  Awfully  small,  my  boy,"  said  the  Reverend,  as  they 
looked  around. 

"  Of  course,"  admitted  Baptiste.  "  But  it  is  not  practical 
to  invest  in  big  houses  in  the  beginning,  you  know.  We 
must  first  build  a  good  big  barn,  and  that,  I  cannot  even 
as  yet  afford." 


246  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Places  his  horses  before  his  wife,  of  course,"  muttered 
the  Reverend,  but  obligingly  unheard. 

"And  you  say  you  intend  to  move  it.  Where?  Not 
away  down  on  that  farm  southeast  ?  "  he  said,  standing  out- 
side and  looking  up  at  the  building. 

"Oh,  no,"  Baptiste  returned  shortly.  "Onto  Orlean's 
place,  west  of  here." 

"Oh.    How  far  is  that?" 

"  Not  so  far.    About  fifty  miles." 

"  Good  lord !  "    And  the  Reverend  could  say  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   CONTEST 

MOVING  a  building  fifty  miles  across  even  a  prairie 
is  not  an  easy  task,  and  before  Jean  Baptiste 
reached  his  wife's  homestead  with  the  building  he 
had  purchased,  he  had  suffered  much  grief.  And  with  the 
Reverend  along,  ever  ready  to  keep  their  minds  alive  to 
the  fact,  it  was  made  no  easier.  But  because  he  was  so 
chronic,  he  was  left  to  grumble  while  his  son-in-law  la- 
bored almost  to  distraction  into  getting  the  building  to  the 
place  before  he  would  be  compelled  to  turn  back  and  face 
the  contest  which  was  scheduled  for  an  early  hearing. 
They  succeeded  in  getting  it  within  twenty  miles  of  the 
claim  when  they  were  compelled  to  abandon  the  task  for 
the  time  and  return  to  Gregory  to  fight  the  contest. 

This  developed  at  times  into  a  rather  heated  argument, 
and  a  prolonged  one  that  tried  the  patience  of  all,  dragging 
over  a  period  of  three  days.  It  became  obvious  during  the 
proceedings  that  the  contestant  and  his  cohorts  desired  as 
much  as  possible  to  keep  away  from  Baptiste  and  on  the  other 
hand  to  concentrate  their  cross-fire  upon  his  wife.  But,  ex- 
pecting this,  they  found,  him  on  his  guard,  countering  them 
at  every  angle,  and,  assisted  by  an  able  land  attorney,  he 
was  successful  in  upsetting  in  a  large  way,  their  many, 
subtle  and  well  laid  plans,  causing  them  to  fail  in  making 
the  showing  they  had  expected  to. 

To  begin  with  their  corroborating  witness,  James  J. 
Spaight,  developed  before  the  chase  to  more  definitely  cor- 

247 


248  THE  HOMESTEADER 

roborate  for  the  defense.  He  had  come  to  the  trial  with 
false  testimony  prepared,  and  had,  under  a  fusillade  of 
cross-examinations,  broken  down  and  impaired  and  weak- 
ened the  prosectuion.  In  all  such  cases  the  one  contesting 
is  placed  at  a  moral  disadvantage,  and  the  fact  that  Crook 
was  a  banker,  fully  able  to  have  purchased  relinquishment 
as  others  over  all  the  county  had  done,  was  ever  in  the  wit- 
ness' mind,  and  did  not  help  his  case.  Baptiste's  wife 
proved  much  stronger  after  the  first  day.  This  was  due 
largely  to  the  fact  that  her  father  had  been  present  on  the 
first  day,  and  had  kept  her  so  much  alive  to  what  she  was 
sacrificing  in  struggling  to  assist  her  husband  in  his  am- 
bition to  be  rich,  until  she  was  perceptibly  weak.  The  time 
limit  on  his  ticket  having  about  expired  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  return  to  Chicago  the  morning  of  the  second  day 
of  the  trial. 

It  was  the  consensus  of  opinion  that  she  would  retain 
her  claim,  though  with  so  many  cases  to  consider,  it  was  ob- 
vious that  it  would  take  many  months,  and  possibly  a  year 
to  get  a  hearing  —  that  is,  before  the  officers  of  the  local 
land  offices  could  settle  the  case. 

This  done,  Jean  Baptiste  returned  and  completed  moving 
the  house  on  the  claim,  fixed  it  up,  dug  a  well,  fenced  in  a 
small  pasture  and  returned  to  gather  his  corn  which 
amounted  to  about  half  a  crop. 

So  time  passed  and  the  holidays  approached  and  another 
phase  in  their  relations  took  shape  when  the  Reverend  in- 
sisted that  they  come  to  Chicago  to  spend  the  holidays.  It 
was  very  annoying.  Orlean  was  expecting  to  become  a 
mother  in  the  early  spring,  and  because  they  had  never  in- 
formed him  of  the  fact,  it  brought  considerable  embarrass- 
ment to  all. 

It  was  difficult  to  explain  to  his  Majesty  that  they  would 


THE  CONTEST  249 

not  come  into  the  city  for  the  holidays.  The  Elder  had  in- 
sisted that  he  would  send  them  tickets,  and  because  Jean 
Baptiste  had  scoffed  at  the  idea,  trouble  was  brewing  as  a 
result.  It  was  then  he  lost  his  patience. 

"  Can  your  father  not  understand,  Orlean,"  he  com- 
plained, with  a  deep  frown,  "  that  I  cannot  accept  his  char- 
ity ?  Because  I  have  made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  to  Chicago, 
does  not  mean  that  I  am  not  able  to  purchase  our  trans- 
portations there  and  back.  It's  the  expense  of  the  trip  and 
what  goes  with  it  that  has  caused  me  to  decide  to  dispense 
with  it.  But  it's  almost  useless  to  try  to  reason  anything 
with  him,  and  I'll  not  waste  the  effort."  Whereupon  he 
would  say  no  more. 

He  was  having  troubles  of  his  own.  He  owed  ten  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  upon  this,  interest  accrued  every  few 
months,  and  the  rate  was  high.  Besides,  he  had  other  press- 
ing bills,  and  the  grain  he  had  raised  was  bringing  very  low 
prices.  Therefore,  he  was  in  no  mood  to  dally  with  a  pov- 
erty poor  preacher  whose  offer  was  more  to  show  himself 
off  and  place  Baptiste  in  a  compromising  position,  than 
his  desire  for  them  to  be  home.  He  made  no  effort  to 
appreciate  the  sentiments  or  to  understand  Jean  Baptiste. 
And  the  fact  that  his  daughter  loved  her  husband  and  was 
willing  to  help  him  seemed  to  be  lost  sight  of  by  N.  Justine 
McCarthy.  Being  accustomed  to  having  people  flatter  him 
as  a  rule,  was  so  engraved  in  his  shallow  nature,  that  he 
was  unable  to  see  matters  from  a  liberal  point  of  view. 

Their  relations  reached  a  climax  when  Orlean  was  with 
his  sister  on  the  claim  a  few  days  before  the  Yuletide. 
Baptiste  received  a  letter  addressed  to  her  from  the  Elder. 
Thinking  that,  since  she  was  on  the  claim,  it  might  be  some- 
thing urgent,  he  opened  it.  It  was  urgent.  It  contained  a 
money  order  covering  the  price  of  a  ticket  to  Chicago  with 


250 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


a  trite  note  that  he  expected  her  soon,  and  that  he,  her  hus- 
band, could  come  on  later. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  anger  that  came  over 
Jean  Baptiste  then.  And,  as  is  most  likely  the  case  when 
a  man  is  angry,  he  does  the  thing  he  most  likely  would  not 
do  when  his  feelings  are  under  control.  With  hands  that 
trembled  with  anger,  he  turned  the  note  over,  wrote  in  a  few 
words  that  he  had  defined  his  position  with  regards  to  com- 
ing to  Chicago;  that  he  would  be  obliged  if  the  other 
would  mind  his  own  business ;  that  he  had  married  his  wife 
and  was  trying  to  be  a  husband  in  every  way  to  her;  but 
that  he  was  running  his  house,  and  was  therefore  returning 
the  money  therewith. 

It  served  as  a  declaration  of  the  war  between  the  two  that 
had  been  impending  for  months.  We  are  too  well  ac- 
quainted with  their  regard  for  each  other,  so  upon  this  we 
will  not  dwell;  but  upon  receipt  of  Baptiste's  letter,  the 
Reverend  sang  his  anger  in  a  letter  that  fairly  scorched  the 
envelope  in  which  it  was  enclosed.  He  threatened  to  turn 
the  world  over,  and  set  it  right  again  if  the  other  did  not  do 
thus  and  so.  To  the  threats,  Baptiste  made  no  reply.  In 
a  measure  he  was  relieved;  he  had  at  last  made  his  posi- 
tion clear  to  the  other,  and  his  wife,  of  course,  was  with 
him  in  the  controversy.  In  view  therefore,  of  the  manner 
in  which  she  had  been  trained,  this  made  matters  rather 
awkward.  The  yield  of  crops  had  not  been  one  half  the 
average,  and  it  took  almost  all  he  had  made  to  pay  the  in- 
terest, taxes  and  expenses.  Baptiste  was  not  cheerful; 
but  Orlean  was  to  become  a  mother,  and  he  was  a  practical 
man.  So  together  they  passed  a  happy  Xmas  after  all. 
In  fact  the  only  cloud  upon  their  horizon  of  happiness  was 
her  father. 

Evidently  he  voiced  what  he  had  done  to  near  friends, 


THE  CONTEST  251 

and  they  had  not  endorsed  his  action.  Orlean  was  the  wife 
of  Jean  Baptiste  and  if  he  expected  her  to  stay  with  him, 
it  was  their  affair,  even  if  the  Reverend  had  only  intended 
to  help.  Attempting  to  force  charity  on  others  is  not  al- 
ways sensible,  so  the  Elder  wrote  later  that  it  was  "  up  to 
them,"  and  if  they  had  agreed  to  stay  in  the  West  Xmas, 
it  was  alright  with  him. 

This  was  very  considerate  of  him  —  apparently,  after  all 
the  noise  he  had  made,  and  Orlean  was  much  relieved,  and 
loved  her  father  still.  Her  husband  was  also  relieved,  and 
forgot  the  matter  for  the  time.  But  did  the  Reverend? 

Well,  that  was  not  his  nature.  He  never  forgot  things 
he  should  forget.  Oh,  no!  He  had  not  been  a  hypocrite 
forty  years  for  nothing!  In  the  meantime,  the  Xmas 
passed  as  it  has  for  more  than  nineteen  hundred  years, 
winter  set  in,  and  the  spring  was  approaching  when  the 
catastrophe  occurred. 


CHAPTER  XV 

COMPROMISED 

"TT\ LEASE  don't  go,  Jean,"  she  begged.  "I  don't 
r^  want  you  to  go.  Stay  with  me." 

•*•  "  Now,  Orlean,"  he  said  gently.  "  I  have  such 

a  lot  of  work  to  do.  I  will  go,  tear  down  some  of  the  old 
buildings  on  the  homestead  and  be  back  before  many  days." 

She  cried  for  a  time  while  he  held  her  in  his  arms.  Cry- 
ing was  nothing  new  with  her.  As  the  time  for  her  deliv- 
ery drew  near,  she  was  given  to  such  spells.  He  was 
patient.  After  a  few  moments  she  dried  her  eys  and  said : 

"  Well,  dear,  you  can  go.  But  hurry  back.  I  want  you 
to  be  home  then,  you  understand." 

"  Of  course  I  want  to  be  home  then,  wifey,  and  sure 
want  it  to  be  a  boy." 

"  It  will  be  a  boy,  Jean,"  she  said  with  a  strange  confi- 
dence. "  I  believe  it.  I  am  sure  it  will." 

"  I  shall  love  you  always  then,  my  wife.  All  our  cares 
and  burdens  will  vanish  into  the  air,  and  we  shall  be  as 
happy  as  the  angels." 

"  Oh,  Jean,  you  can  make  life  seem  so  light." 

"Life  should  be  made  to  appear  light,  sweetheart,"  he 
said,  caressing  her.  "  Grandmother  will  be  here  with  you 
and  if  you  need  for  anything,  draw  a  check  and  have  the 
neighbors  below  bring  it  out.  It  is  only  three  miles  over 
the  hill  to  Carter,  you  understand." 

"  By  the  way,  dear,"  she  said  suddenly,  going  into  the 
bedroom,  and  returning  presently  with  a  letter.  "  This  is 

252 


COMPROMISED  253 

from  mama.  She  writes  that  they  have  never  told  papa 
yet,  and  hopes  that  nothing  serious  will  happen  for  then 
she  would  never  —  we  would  never  be  forgiven  by  him." 

"  Dear  Little  Mother  Mary,"  he  said  fondly.  "  I  hope 
nothing  will  happen,  Orlean,  for  our  sakes."  And  then  he 
paused.  He  had  started  to  say  that  he  was  not  worried 
about  her  father's  forgiveness.  He  had  lost  what  little 
patience  he  had  ever  had  with  that  one,  and  did  not  pro- 
pose to  be  annoyed  with  his  love,  the  love  that  he  had  to  be 
continually  making  excuses  and  apologies  to  entertain.  But 
before  he  had  spoken  he  thought  better  of  it,  and  decided 
to  say  nothing  about  it.  His  wife  had  been  trained  to  re- 
gard her  father  as  a  king,  and  because  he  had  succeeded  in 
letting  her  see  that  after  all  he  was  just  a  Negro  preacher 
with  the  most  that  went  with  Negro  preachers  in  him,  she 
had  at  last  ceased  to  bore  him  with  telling  him  how  great 
her  father  was. 

They  were  at  her  claim,  and  he  was  about  to  depart  for 
his  original  homestead  to  clean  up  work  preparatory  to 
moving  onto  her  claim  permanently  as  he  had  intended  to  do. 
Already  his  wagons  with  horses  hitched  thereto  stood  near, 
and  he  was  only  lingering  for  a  few  parting  words  with 
her. 

"  I  am  kind  of  sorry  we  placed  mother  in  this  position," 
he  heard  her  say  as  if  talking  more  to  herself  than  he. 

"In  what  position,  Orlean?" 

"  In  keeping  this  a  secret." 

"  From  your  father,  you  mean  ?  "  said  he,  frowning. 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  Orlean,  I  have  tried  to  be  a  husband  to  you." 

"  And  you  have  been,  Jean." 

"  Then  it   is  our  business   if   I   chose  to  keep   such  a 


254  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Yes,  Jean,"  she  said,  lowering  her  eyes  and  thinking. 

"  But  the  one  burden  of  our  married  life  has  been  your 
father.  I  never  anticipated  that  his  love  would  be  such  a 
burden.  Ever  since  we  have  been  married  we  have  had 
to  waste  our  substance  on  fear  over  what  he  will  think. 
He  seems  to  lose  sight  of  a  husband's  sentiment  or  right. 
I  can  fancy  him  in  my  position  with  regard  to  your  mother 
before  they  had  been  married  long.  My  God,  if  any  father 
or  mother  would  have  ventured  any  suggestion  as  to  how 
they  should  live  or  what  they  should  do  I  can  see  him !  " 

His  wife  laughed. 

"Have  I  spoken  rightly?" 

"  Yes,"  she  agreed  and  was  momentarily  amused. 

"  Yes.  But  he  just  makes  our  life  a  burden  with  his 
kind  of  love.  Now  take  this  matter  for  instance.  Why 
should  we  be  keeping  this  a  secret  from  him  —  rather,  why 
should  I?  It's  just  simply  because  I  have  too  much  other 
cares  to  be  annoyed  with  a  whole  lot  of  to-do  on  his  part. 
If  he  knew  you  were  going  to  become  a  mother,  he  would 
just  make  our  life  unbearable  with  his  insistences  and  love. 
Your  mother,  knows  it,  and  Ethel.  Ethel  who  would  have 
had  you  dispose  of  that  innocent,  knows  it  and  keeps  it 
from  him,  with  fear  all  the  while  of  what  will  come  of  it, 
should  anything  happen. 

"  Now,  I'll  say  this  much.  I  don't  propose  to  make  any 
excuses  to  him  about  anything  I  do  or  have  you  do 
hereafter.  I'm  going  to  be  husband  and  master,  and  have 
nothing  to  do  with  what  he  does  with  regard  to  your  mother. 
As  long  as  I  am  good  and  kind  to  you,  and  don't  neglect  you, 
then  I  have  a  right,  and  positively  will  not  be  annoyed  even 
by  your  father !  " 

"  Please  hush,  Jean,"  she  begged,  her  arms  about  him. 
But  he  was  aroused.  He  had  made  himself  forget  as  he 


COMPROMISED  255 

should  have  forgotten  the  punishment  he  had  been  given 
twenty-two  years  before.  But  he  did  not  like  the  man's 
conduct.  Everywhere  and  with  everybody  back  in  Illinois 
who  knew  N.  Justine  McCarthy,  he  was  regarded  as  an 
acknowledged  rascal. 

"  Just  look  how  he  treats  your  mother ! "  She  pulled 
at  him  and  tried  to  still  his  voice ;  but  speak  he  would.  "If 
I  was  ever  guilty  of  treating  you  as  your  father  has  treated 
your  mother  ever  since  he  married  her,  I  hope  the  Christ 
will  sink  my  soul  into  the  bottom-most  pit  of  hell ! " 

"  Jean,  my  God,  please  hush !  " 

"  But  I  speak  the  truth  and  you  know  it.  Would  you  like 
to  look  forward  and  feel  that  you  had  to  go  through  all 
your  life  what  your  mother  has  endured?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no !  But  you  must  hush,  Jean,  in  heaven's 
name,  hush."  He  did  then.  The  storm  that  had  come  over 
him  had  spent  its  force  and  he  kissed  her,  turned  then, 
went  to  where  his  teams  stood,  got  into  the  front  wagon, 
and  looking  back,  drove  upon  his  way. 

"  Poor  Jean,"  murmured  Orlean.  "  Father  and  he  will 
never  be  friends  and  it  makes  it  so  hard  for  me."  She  con- 
tinued to  stand  where  he  left  her,  looking  after  him  until 
he  had  disappeared  over  the  hills  to  the  east. 

Arriving  at  Gregory  late  that  afternoon,  Jean  found  a 
Lyceum  concert,  the  number  consisting  of  Negroes,  one  of 
whom,  a  girl,  he  had  known  some  years  before,  for  she  had 
lived  next  door  to  where  he  then  roomed. 

He  attended  and  afterward  renewed  their  acquaintance. 
It  so  happened  that  a  lumber  company  was  going  out  of 
business  in  the  next  town  east  from  Gregory,  and  some 
coal  sheds  there  were  for  sale.  Desiring  something  of  the 
kind  to  use  as  a  granary  on  his  wife's  claim,  Baptiste 
journeyed  hither  the  following  day  to  look  the  same  over. 


256  THE  HOMESTEADER 

Now  it  also  happened  that  the  same  concerters  were  billed 
for  the  same  town  for  an  evening  performance  of  that  day. 
The  day  after  being  Sunday,  and  the  company  laying  over 
until  Monday,  the  days  were  passed  together,  with  Baptiste 
scheduled  to  go  out  to  his  old  place  Sunday  night. 

It  was  a  cheer  to  revive  old  acquaintances ;  to  talk  of 
Chicago  and  olden  days  with  those  who  still  lived  there. 
It  was  a  cheer  to  all,  but  Jean  Baptiste  had  cause  to  regret 
it  as  we  shall  later  see.  In  the  meantime,  he  went  to  his 
old  place  as  per  schedule,  returning  to  the  little  town  the 
following  morning,  where  he  purchased  a  hundred  foot 
shed  and  prepared  to  move  it  to  his  wife's  claim  forthwith. 

A  few  miles  only  had  been  traversed  before  an  intermit- 
tent thaw  set  in,  the  soft  uncertain  surface  of  the  earth 
making  it  hazardous  to  pull  a  heavy  load  over.  So  when 
he  reached  his  old  place,  he  decided  to  leave  it  there,  tear 
down  his  old  granary  and  haul  the  lumber  instead. 

While  in  this  act,  his  sister,  who  had  been  on  a  visit  to 
Kansas,  returned,  and  worried  with  regards  to  his  wife, 
alone  with  his  grandma  out  on  the  homestead,  he  hurried  her 
therewith  at  once.  The  next  day  he  was  relieved  to  receive 
a  letter  from  Orlean,  advising  that  she  was  well,  but  to 
come  home  as  soon  as  possible. 

A  week  had  passed  and  Saturday  was  upon  him  again  be- 
fore he  was  ready  to  make  a  start.  Now  there  often  comes 
in  the  springtime  in  the  West,  severe  winds  that  may  blow 
unchecked  for  days.  And  one  came  up  just  as  Jean  Baptiste 
had  set  out,  and  blew  a  terrific  gale.  It  almost  upset  his 
wagons,  and  made  driving  very  difficult.  This  was  aug- 
mented further,  because  the  wind  was  right  in  his  face,  and 
there  was  no  way  to  avoid  it.  However,  he  finally  reached 
a  town  about  eleven  miles  west  of  Dallas,  by  the  name  of 
Colome  that  day.  The  next  morning  the  wind  had  gone 


COMPROMISED  257 

down  and  the  day  was  beautiful,  and  he  was  cheered  to 
think  he  could  reach  home  that  day,  by  getting  started 
early.  But  bad  luck  was  with  Jean  Baptiste  that  day,  which 
was  Sunday,  and  when  he  was  going  down  a  hill,  the  wagon 
struck  a  rocky  place,  bounced,  and  the  right  front  wheel 
rolled  out  ahead  of  him.  The  axle  had  broken,  and  his 
load  went  down  with  a  crash. 

He  went  to  a  house  he  saw  near,  secured  a  wagon,  and 
there  met  a  man  who  had  known  his  father,  and  had  lived 
and  run  a  newspaper  in  the  same  town  near  where  he  was 
born  twenty-six  years  before.  He  wasted  hours  getting  his 
load  transferred  to  another  wagon,  and  finally  got  started 
again.  But  not  two  miles  had  been  covered  before  the 
coupling  pole  snapped,  and  his  loads  almost  went  down 
again.  What  trick  of  fate  was  playing  him,  he  wondered, 
and  swore  viciously.  Hours  it  took  before  the  break  was 
repaired,  and  he  pulled  into  Winner,  eighteen  miles  from 
home,  late  that  night. 

Early  morning  found  him,  however,  resolutely  on  the 
way.  He  had  covered  about  half  the  distance  when  he  met 
a  man  who  lived  neighbor  to  him  on  his  wife's  claim,  who 
told  him  he  had  tried  to  get  him  on  the  'phone  Saturday, 
at  Gregory  and  again  at  Dallas;  that  his  wife  had  given 
birth  to  a  baby  which  had  come  into  the  world  dead,  on  a 
Saturday. 

He  almost  tumbled  from  the  wagon  when  he  heard 
this.  "  Dead ! "  he  repeated.  Finally  he  heard  himself 
speaking,  and  in  a  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from  far 
away: 

"Ah — well  —  did  my  wife  have  —  attention?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  other.  "  Your  sister,  and  two  doc- 
tors. Yes,  she  had  all  the  attention  necessary.  But  I'm 
sorry  for  you,  old  man.  It  was  sure  a  big,  fine  kid.  She 


258  THE  HOMESTEADER 

couldn't  give  it  birth,  so  they  had  to  kill  it  in  order  to  save 
her  life." 

He  started  to  resume  his  journey  East,  while  Baptiste,  now 
with  unstrung  nerves,  started  to  resume  his  way  West.  But 
before  his  horses  had  gone  many  steps  he  suddenly  drew 
them  down  to  a  halt,  and,  turning,  heard  the  other  call  out : 
"  I  went  to  Carter  and  sent  her  father  a  telegram  as  per  a 
request  of  hers.  I  suppose  it  was  all  right,"  and  con- 
tinued on  his  way. 

"To  him!"  cried  Baptiste  inaudibly.  "To  him!"  he 
repeated.  "  To  him  no  doubt,  that  the  baby  —  which  he  had 
not  known  was  to  be,  had  come  and  —  dead !  " 

Mechanically  he  drove  upon  his  way.  He  did  not  think, 
he  did  not  speak.  He  said  nothing  for  a  long,  long  time; 
but  down  in  his  heart  Jean  Baptiste  knew  that  he  was  com- 
ing nearer  to  the  parting  of  the  7juays. 

Back  in  old  Illinois  N.  Justine  McCarthy,  upon  receiving 
the  telegram,  he  realized  would  in  all  probability  depart  at 
the  earliest  convenience  for  the  West.  And  when  he  ar- 
rived, would  learn  still  more  than  the  message  had  told; 
would  learn  that  he  had  been  absent  when  his  wife  had 
given  birth  to  the  dead  baby.  Oh,  his  child,  why  could  it 
not  have  lived.  .  .  .  Yes,  she  had  had  all  the  attention  that 
was  possible ;  but  such  would  not  be  credited  by  N.  Justine 
McCarthy.  The  fact  that  not  every  man  had  found  it 
possible  to  be  present  at  the  bedside  of  their  wives  when 
children  came,  would  not  be  considered  by  N.  Justine  Mc- 
Carthy. The  fact  that  he  himself  had  been  absent  when  his 
own  Orlean  came  into  the  world  would  be  no  counter  here. 
Jean  Baptiste's  absence  at  the  critical  time  would  serve  as 
an  excuse  for  the  Reverend  to  vent  his  spite,  and  he  would 
demand  a  toll.  Jean  Baptiste  was  compromised,  and  would 
have  to  make  a  sacrifice.  . 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   EVIL   GENIUS 

"/^\  H>  JEAN,"  breathed  Orlean,  from  the  bed,  "  where 

§       1  have  you  been  ?  " 

^-^  He  had  come  unto  the  house  then,  and  the 
man  in  him  was  much  downcast.  He  was,  and  had  cause  to 
feel  discouraged,  sorrowful  and  sad.  So  he  explained  to 
the  one  who  lay  upon  the  bed  where  he  had  been,  and  what 
had  happened  to  him,  and  why  he  had  been  delayed. 

She  sighed  when  he  was  through  and  was  sorry.  For 
a  long  time  he  was  on  his  knees  at  the  bedside,  and  when 
an  hour  had  passed,  she  reached  and  placed  her  arm  about 
his  neck,  and  was  thankful  that  he  was  spared  to  her,  and 
they  would  live  on  hopeful ;  but  both  felt  their  loss  deeply. 

"  I  sent  papa  a  telegram,"  she  said  presently.  Because  he 
knew  he  made  no  answer.  He  knew  the  other  would  come, 
and  he  was  resigned  as  to  what  would  follow.  She  sighed 
again.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  knew  and  also  feared 
what  was  to  follow.  .  .  .  She  had  not  known  her  father 
her  lifetime  without  knowing  what  must  happen.  But  she 
loved  her  husband,  and  now  in  the  weak  state  the  delivery 
had  left  her  she  was  struggling  to  withstand  the  subtle  at- 
tack her  father  was  sure  to  make. 

Two  days  passed,  and  she  was  progressing  toward  health 
as  well  as  could  be  expected.  Since  her  marriage  her 
health  on  the  whole  had  improved  wonderfully.  The  petty 
aches  and  pains  of  which  she  complained  formerly  had 

259 


260  THE  HOMESTEADER 

gradually  disappeared,  and  the  western  air  had  brought 
health  and  vigor  to  her. 

And  then  on  the  third  day  he  arrived.  Moreover,  he 
brought  Ethel  with  him.  They  rode  over  the  hill  that  led 
to  the  claim  in  a  hired  rig,  and  Baptiste  espied  them  as 
soon  as  they  were  in  sight. 

Our  pen  cannot  describe  what  Jean  Baptiste  read  in  the 
eyes  of  N.  J.  McCarthy  when  he  alighted  from  the  buggy 
and  went  into  the  house.  But  suffice  to  say,  that  what  had 
passed  twenty-two  years  before  had  come  back.  There  was 
to  be  war  between  them  and  as  it  had  been  then  Baptiste  was 
at  a  disadvantage,  and  must  necessarily  accept  the  inevitable. 

Ethel  was  crying,  and  her  tears  meant  more  than  words. 
She  had  never  cried  for  love.  It  had  always  been  some- 
thing to  the  contrary.  But  we  must  turn  to  the  one  in  bed 
—  and  helpless ! 

She  saw  her  father  when  he  stepped  from  the  buggy, 
and  understood  what  he  carried  behind  his  masklike  face. 
He  did  not  allow  his  eyes  to  rest  on  Jean  Baptiste,  and  she 
noted  this.  She  settled  back  upon  the  pillow,  and  tried 
to  compose  herself  for  the  event  that  was  to  be.  Her  hus- 
band was  compromised,  and  could  not  defend  himself.  .  .  . 
Therefore  it  fell  upon  her  and  from  the  sick  bed  to  defend 
him. 

He  was  inside  the  house  now,  and  came  toward  her,  and 
she  was  frightened  when  he  was  near  and  saw  his  face  and 
what  it  held.  Hatred  within  was  there  and  she  shuddered 
audibly.  She  closed  her  eyes  to  shut  it  out.  Oh,  the 
agony  that  came  over  her.  She  opened  her  eyes  when  his 
lips  touched  hers,  and  then  began  the  struggle  that  was 
to  be  hers. 

"  Papa,"  she  whispered,  and  in  her  voice  there  was  a  great 
appeal.  "  Don't  blame  Jean.  Jean  has  burdens,  he  has  re- 


THE  EVIL  GENIUS  261 

sponsibilities  —  he's  all  tied  up !  He's  good  to  me,  he  loves 
me,  he  gives  me  all  he  has."  But  before  she  had  finished, 
she  knew  that  her  appeal  had  fallen  upon  deaf  ears.  Her 
father  had  come  —  and  he  had  brought  a  purpose  to  be  ful- 
filled. 

He  caressed  her;  he  said  many  foolish  things,  and  she 
pretended  to  believe  him;  she  made  as  if  his  coming  had 
meant  the  saving  of  her  life ;  but  she  knew  behind  all  he 
pretended  was  the  evil,  the  evil  that  was  his  nature,  and 
the  fear  that  filled  her  breast  made  her  .weaker ;  made  her 
sick. 

The  doctor  had  said  that  she  would  be  able  to  leave  the 
bed  in  ten  days,  probably  a  week ;  but  now  with  grim  realiza- 
tion of  what  was  before  her  she  became  weak,  weaker, 
weakest.  And  all  the  time  she  saw  that  it  .was  being 
charged  to  Jean  Baptiste,  and  to  his  neglect. 

We  should  perhaps  try  to  make  clear  at  this  point  in  this 
story  that  Jean  Baptiste  could  have  settled  matters  in  a 
very  simple  manner.  .  .  .  True,  the  manner  in  which  he 
could  have  settled  it,  would  be  the  manner  in  which  wars 
could  be  avoided  —  by  sacrificing  principle.  He  could  have 
gone  to  his  Majesty  and  played  a  traitor  to  his  nature  by 
pretending  to  believe  the  Elder  had  been  right  and  justified 
in  everything ;  whereas,  he,  Jean  Baptiste,  had  been  as  duly 
wrong.  He  could  have  acted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  have 
his  Majesty  feel  that  he  was  a  great  man,  that  he  had  been 
honored  by  even  knowing  him,  much  less  in  being  privileged 
to  marry  his  daughter.  This,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  hav- 
ing been  absent  from  her  bedside  at  that  crucial  time,  he  was 
compromised,  would  have  satisfied  the  Elder,  and  Baptiste 
would  not  have  been  compelled  to  forego  all  that  later  came 
to  pass  in  their  relations.  But  Jean  Baptiste  had  a  princi- 
ple, and  was  not  a  liar,  nor  a  coward,  nor  a  thief.  And,  al- 


262  THE  HOMESTEADER 

though,  he  had  been  so  unfortunte  as  not  to  have  been  by 
the  bedside  of  his  wife  during  that  hour,  he  could  have  senti- 
mentally appeased  his  father-in-law,  but  Jean  Baptiste  had 
not  nor  will  he  ever  in  the  development  of  this  story,  sink 
so  low.  Of  what  was  to  come  —  and  the  most  is  —  in  this 
story,  Jean  Baptiste  at  no  time  sacrificed  his  manhood  for 
any  cause. 

N.  Justine  McCarthy,  and  this  is  true  of  too  many  of 
his  race  and  to  this  cause  may  be  attributed  many  of  their 
failures,  was  not  a  reader.  He  never  read  anything  but  the 
newspapers  briefly"  and  the  Bible  a  little.  He  was,  there- 
fore, not  an  informed  man.  As  a  result  he  took  little  in- 
terest in,  and  appreciated  less,  what  the  world  is  thinking 
and  doing.  He  had  never  understood  because  he  had  not 
tried,  what  the  people  around  where  Jean  Baptiste  had  come 
were  doing  for  posterity.  Yet  he  claimed  very  loudly  to  be 
an  apostle  of  the  race  —  to  be  willing  —  and  was  —  sacri- 
ficing his  very  soul  for  the  cause  of  Ethiopia.  He  took 
great  pride  in  telling  and  retelling  how  he  had  sacrificed  for 
his  family  —  wife  included.  As  he  was  heard  by  others, 
he  had  no  faults;  could  do  no  wrong,  and  would  surely 
reach  heaven  in  the  end ! 

So  while  they  lingered  at  the  bedside  of  Orlean,  he  and 
Ethel,  as  a  pastime  argued  with  each  other,  and  involved 
everybody  but  themselves  with  wrongs.  For  instance,  the 
Reverend,  affecting  much  piety,  would  in  discussing  his 
wife,  whom  he  ever  did  in  terms  regarding  her  faults,  find 
occasion  to  remark  in  a  burst  of  self  pity  —  and  of  self  pity 
he  had  an  abundant  supply : 

"  After  all  I  have  done  for  that  woman ;  after  all  I  have 
sacrificed  for  her ;  after  all  the  patience  I  have  endured  while 
she  has  held  me  down  —  kept  me  from  being  what  I  would 
have  been  and  should,  she  is  ever  bursting  out  with: 


THE  EVIL  GENIUS  263 

'  You're  the  meanest  man  in  the  world !  You're  the  meanest 
man  in  the  world ! '  "  Whereupon  he  would  affect  a  look  of 
deep  self  pity  and  eternal  mortification. 

Unless  we  lengthen  the  story  unnecessarily,  we  would  not 
have  the  space  to  relate  all  he  said  in  reference  to  his  son- 
in-law  in  subtle  ways  during  these  days.  But  Jean  Baptiste 
was  too  busy  building  a  barn  and  other  buildings  to  listen  to 
these  compliments  the  Elder  was  bestowing  upon  his  wife 
with  regard  to  him.  "Yes,  my  dear,"  he  said  time  and 
again,  "If  Jean  was  like  your  father,  you  would  not  be 
here  now  with  your  child  lying  dead  in  the  grave.  No, 
no.  You  would  be  in  the  best  hospital  in  Chicago,  with 
nurses  and  attendants  all  about  you  and  your  darling  baby 
at  your  side,"  and,  so  saying,  he  would  affect  another  sigh  of 
self  pity. 

At  first  she  had  struggled  to  protest,  but  after  a  few  days 
she  gave  up  entirely  and  became  resigned  to  the  inevitable. 
She  received  an  occasional  diversion,  however,  when  the 
Elder  and  Ethel  entered  into  a  controversy.  Unlike  Orlean, 
Ethel  was  not  afraid  of  her  father,  especially  when  he  had 
something  to  say  about  Glavis.  The  truth  was,  that  while  he 
so  pretended,  N.  J.  McCarthy  had  no  more  love  for  Glavis 
than  he  had  for  Baptiste ;  but  he  could  tolerate  Glavis  be- 
cause Glavis  endeavored  to  satisfy  his  vanity.  Baptiste,  on 
the  other  hand,  while  he  now  accepted  all  his  father-in-law 
chose  to  pour  upon  him  in  the  way  of  rebuke  for  what  he  had 
done  and  should  not  have,  and  what  he  had  not  done  and 
should  have,  he  never  told  the  Elder  that  he  was  a  great 
man. 

The  first  few  days  the  Elder  had  held  the  usual  prayer; 
but  after  some  days  he  dispensed  with  this,  and  turned  all  his 
energy  to  rebuking  Jean  Baptiste,  when  he  was  out  of  sight. 

"  Now,  don't  you  talk  about  Glavis,"  cried  Ethel  one  day 


264  THE  HOMESTEADER 

when  his  Majesty  had  tired  of  abusing  Baptiste  and  sought 
a  diversion  by  remarking  that  Glavis  had  come  from  a 
stumpy  farm  in  the  woodlands  of  Tennessee.  "  No,  you 
don't !  Glavis  is  my  husband  and  you  can't  abuse  him  to  his 
back  like  you  are  doing  Baptiste !  " 

"  Just  listen  how  she  treats  her  father,  Orlean,"  cried  the 
Elder,  overcome  with  self  pity.  Orlean  then  rebuked  Ethel 
and  chided  her  father.  But  the  part  which  escaped  her, 
was  that  Ethel  defended  her  mate,  while  Orlean  suffered  to 
have  hers  rebuked  at  will.  The  greatest  reason  why  Ethel 
and  her  father  could  not  agree,  as  was  well  known,  was  that 
they  were  too  much  alike. 

When  Jean  Baptiste  had  completed  his  barn,  and  his  wife 
was  out  of  danger,  according  to  the  doctor  —  but  would 
never  be  according  to  the  Elder  —  who  insisted  that  the  only 
cure  would  be  for  her  to  return  to  Chicago  with  them, — 
he  was  ready  to  go  to  work.  His  wife  wanted  to  go  to 
Chicago,  for  what  the  Reverend  had  done  to  her  in  the 
days  he  had  sat  by  her  and  professed  his  great  love,  would 
have  made  her  wish  to  go  anywhere  to  appease  him  for 
even  a  day. 

"  Now,  after  the  expense  we  have  been  to,"  said  Baptiste, 
"  I  hardly  know  whether  I  can  let  you  go  to  Chicago  or 
not." 

The  Elder  sighed,  and  said  to  her  low  enough  for  her 
husband's  ears  not  to  hear :  "  Just  listen  to  that.  After  all 
I  have  done !  Then  I  will  have  to  pay  your  way  to  Chicago 
where  I  shall  endeavor  to  save  your  life,  your  dear  life 
which  this  man  is  trying  to  grind  out  of  you  to  get  rich." 

"  But  I'll  think  it  over,"  said  Baptiste.  "  We  have  lots  of 
work  this  summer,  and  will  try  to  get  caught  up,"  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  gone. 

"  Did  you  hear  that,  daughter  ?  "  said  the  Reverend,  now 


THE  EVIL  GENIUS  265 

aloud,  when  the  other's  back  was  turned.  "  Oh,  it's  awful, 
the  man  you  have  married!  Just  crazy,  crazy  to  get  rich! 
And  puts  you  after  his  work;  after  his  horses;  after  his 
everything!  And  after  all  your  poor  old  father  has  done 
for  you,"  whereupon  he  let  escape  another  sigh,  and  fell  into 
tears  of  self  pity. 

Orlean  stroked  his  head  and  swallowed  what  she  would 
have  offered  in  defense  of  the  man  she  had  married.  It 
was  useless  to  offer  defense,  he  had  broken  this  down  long 
since. 

"  Yes,  he  is  wanting  to  kill,  to  kill  my  poor  daughter  after 
all  she  has  sacrificed,"  he  sobbed,  "  and  when  you  are  dead 
and  in  your  grave  like  your  baby  is  out  in  this  wild 
'  country,"  his  voice  was  breaking  now  with  sobs,  "  he  will  up 
and  marry  another  woman  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  your  sacri- 
fice ! "  He  was  lost  in  his  own  tears  then,  and  could  say 
no  more. 

"  Now,  dear,"  she  suddenly  heard  her  husband,  and  looked 
up  to  find  that  he  had  returned.  He  stooped  and  kissed  her 
fondly,  and  then  went  on :  "I  am  going  up  to  my  sister's 
homestead  to  start  the  men  to  work  with  the  engine  break- 
ing the  land  and  I  must  haul  them  the  coal,  which  I  will 
get  at  Colome.  Now  I  will  not  be  back  for  several  days, 
but  will  make  up  my  mind  in  the  meantime  as  to  whether  I 
can  let  you  go  to  Chicago  or  not." 

"  All  right,  dear,"  she  said,  raising  from  the  bed  and 
caressing  him  long  and  lingeringly.  She  could  not  under- 
stand how  much  she  wanted  him  then,  it  seemed  that  she 
could  hold  him  so  forever.  She  kissed  him  again  and  again, 
and  as  he  passed  out  of  the  room  she  looked  after  him  long 
and  lingeringly,  and  upon  her  face  was  a  heavenly  smile  as  he 
passed  out  of  sight  and  disappeared  over  the  hill.  As  he  did 
so,  the  Elder  got  from  his  position  at  the  other  side  of  the 


266  THE  HOMESTEADER 

bed,  went  to  the  door,  and  also  watched  him  out  sight.  As 
he  turned  away,  Baptiste's  grandmother  who  had  fed  many 
a  preacher  back  there  in  old  Illinois,  the  Reverend  included, 
started.  She  had  seen  his  face,  and  what  she  had  seen 
therein  had  frightened  her.  When  he  went  back  into  the 
room  and  to  the  bed  where  Orlean  lay,  she  dropped  by  the 
table  and  buried  her  face  in  her  old  arms  and  sobbed,  long 
and  silently.  And  a  close  observer  could  have  heard  these 
shaken  words : 

"  Poor  Jean,  poor  Jean,  poor  Orlean,  oh,  poor  Orlean ! 
You  made  all  the  fight  you  could  but  you  were  weak.  You 
were  doomed  before  you  started,  for  he  knew  you  and  knew 
you  were  weak.  But  would  to  God  that  the  world  could  end 
today,  for  it  will  end  tomorrow  for  you  two.  Poor  Orlean, 
poor  Jean ! " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   COWARD 

"T  T  ELLO,  JEAN,"  cried  a  friend  of  his  at  Colome 

some  days  later,  as  he  was  leading  his  horses 

into  the  livery  barn,  after  loading  the  coal  he 

was  hauling  to  the  men  who  were  breaking  prairie  on  his 

sister's  claim  with  a  steam  tractor.     "  Were  those  your  folks 

I  seen  driving  into  town  a  while  ago  ?  " 

"My  folks?" 

"  Yeh.  Three  of  them.  A  man  and  two  women.  One 
of  the  ladies  appears  to  be  sick." 

"  Oh,"  he  echoed,  and  before  he  could  or  would  have  an- 
swered in  his  sudden  surprise,  the  other  passed  on.  It  was 
some  moments  before  he  recovered  from  the  shock  the 
other's  words  had  given  him.  He  knew  without  stopping  to 
think  that  the  ones  referred  to  were  the  Reverend,  Ethel  and 
his  wife.  He  had  written  his  wife  a  few  days  before  that 
he  would  be  home  the  following  Sunday,  and  when  he  would 
be  caught  up  in  his  hauling  sufficiently  and  could  spend  a 
few  days  there. 

"  So  he  moves  without  my  consent  or  bid,"  he  breathed, 
and  for  a  time  he  was  listless  from  the  feeling  that  over- 
came him.  He  attended  to  his  horses,  mechanically,  had 
supper  and  went  to  verify  what  he  had  heard. 

He  had  little  difficulty  in  doing  so,  for  the  town  was  small, 
but  that  night,  happened  to  be  full  of  people,  and  the  Rev- 
erend had  found  some  difficulty  in  securing  lodging.  The 
day  had  not  been  a  beautiful  one  by  any  means.  It  was  in 

267 


268  THE  HOMESTEADER 

early  April  and  the  month  had  borrowed  one  of  the  dreary 
days  of  the  previous  month.  Light  snow  had  fallen,  which, 
along  toward  evening  had  turned  into  a  dismal  sleet.  A  bad 
day  to  say  the  least,  to  be  out,  and  a  sick  person  of  all  things  ! 

He  went  directly  to  the  preacher  when  he  saw  him.  He 
was  aroused,  and  the  insults  he  had  suffered  did  not  make 
him  pleasant. 

"  Now,  look  here,  Reverend  McCarthy/'  he  said  and  his 
tone  revealed  his  feelings,  "  what  kind  of  a  *  stunt '  are  you 
pulling  off  with  my  wife?  "  And  he  blocked  his  way  where 
they  stood  upon  the  sidewalk. 

"  Now,  now,  my  son  — " 

"  Oh,  don't '  son  '  me,"  said  the  other  impatiently.  "  You 
and  I  might  as  well  come  to  an  understanding  right  here  to- 
night as  any  other  time.  We  are  not  friends  and  you  know 
it.  We  have  never  since  we  have  known  each  other  been 
in  accord  —  not  since  we  met  —  yes,  twenty-two  years  ago. 
Oh,  you  remember  it."  The  other  started  guiltily  when  Jean 
referred  to  his  youth. 

"  You  remember  how  my  mother  licked  me  for  letting 
Miss  Self  help  me  upon  her  lap  and  fed  me,  thereby  dis- 
turbing your  illegitimate  flirtation.  .  .  ."  The  other's  pious 
face  darkened.  But  it  was  not  his  nature  to  meet  and  argue 
openly  as  men  should  and  do.  Always  his  counter  was 
subtle.  So  while  Jean  Baptiste  was  in  the  mood  to  come  to 
an  understanding,  to  admit  frankly  to  the  other,  that  enemies 
they  were,  the  Elder  permitted  a  womanish  smile  to  spread 
over  his  face  and  patted  the  other  on  the  back,  saying : 

"  Now,  now,  Jean.  You  are  my  daughter's  husband,  and 
it  is  no  time  or  place  to  carry  on  like  this.  The  girl  lays 
sick  over  here  and  if  you  would  be  a  husband  you  would  go 
to  her.  Now  let's  dispense  with  such  things  as  you  refer 
to  and  go  forth  to  the  indisposed."  He  appeared  more 


THE  COWARD  269 

godly  now  than  he  had  ever.  Distrust  was  in  the  face  of 
Baptiste.  He  knew  the  preacher  was  not  sincere,  but  his 
wife,  the  girl  he  had  married,  lay  ill.  He  suspicioned  that 
the  Elder  had  intended  stealing  her  away  without  his  knowl- 
edge ;  he  knew,  moreover,  that  all  his  affected  tenderness  was 
subtle;  but  he  hushed  the  harsh  words  that  were  on  his 
tongue  to  say  and  followed  the  other. 

"  Yes,  my  children,"  his  pious  face  almost  unable  to  veil 
the  evil  behind  the  mask,  "  here  we  are  together,"  he  said 
when  he  entered  the  room  followed  by  Baptiste.  Orlean  was 
in  bed  and  made  no  effort  to  greet  her  husband ;  while  Ethel 
sat  sulkily  in  a  chair  nearby  and  kept  her  mouth  closed. 
Jean  went  to  the  bed  and  sat  by  his  wife  and  regarded  her 
meditatively.  She  did  not  seem  to  recognize  him,  and  he 
made  no  effort  to  arouse  her  to  express  her  thoughts  which 
seemed  to  come  and  go.  He  was  lost  in  thoughts,  strange 
and  sinister.  Verily  his  life  was  in  a  turmoil.  The  life  he 
had  come  into  through  his  marriage  had  revived  so  many 
old  and  unpleasant  memories  that  he  had  forgotten,  until  he 
was  in  a  sort  of  daze.  He  had  virtually  run  away  from 
those  parts  wherein  he  had  first  seen  the  light  of  day,  to 
escape  the  effect  of  dull  indolence;  the  penurious  evil  that 
seemed  to  have  gripped  the  populace,  especially  a  great  por- 
tion of  his  race.  In  the  years  Jean  Baptiste  had  spent  in 
the  West,  he  had  been  able  to  follow,  unhampered,  his  con- 
victions. But  now,  the  Reverend's  presence  seemed  to  have 
brought  all  this  back. 

In  a  conversation  one  day  with  that  other  he  had  oc- 
casion to  mention  the  late  James  J.  Hill,  in  his  eulogy  of  the 
northwest  and  was  surprised  to  find  —  and  have  the  Rev- 
erend admit  —  that  he  had  never  even  heard  of  him.  In- 
deed, what  the  Elder  knew  about  the  big  things  in  life  would 
have  filled  a  very  small  book.  But  when  it  came  to  the 


270  THE  HOMESTEADER 

virtues  of  the  women  in  the  churches  over  which  he  pre- 
sided, he  knew  everything.  And  whenever  they  had  become 
agreeable  in  any  way,  it  was  sure  to  end  with  the  Reverend 
relating  incidents  regarding  the  social  and  moral  conduct 
of  the  women  in  the  churches  over  which  he  presided. 
Moreover,  the  Elder  sought  in  his  subtle  manner,  to  dig  into 
the  past  life  of  members  of  Baptiste's  family,  of  what  any 
had  committed  that  could  be  used  as  a  measure  for  gossip. 
And  this  night,  as  they  sat  over  Jean's  wife  whose  sentiment 
and  convictions  had  been  crushed,  the  Elder  attempted  to 
dwell  on  the  subject  again. 

"  Yes,  when  your  older  sister  taught  in  Murphysboro,  and 
got  herself  talked  about  because  she  drew  a  revolver  on 
Professor  Alexander,  that  was  certainly  too  bad." 

"  Looks  as  if  she  was  able  to  take  care  of  herself,"  sug- 
gested Baptiste,  deciding  to  counter  the  old  rascal  at  his  own 
game. 

"  But  that's  what  I'm  trying  to  show  you,  and  you  could 
see  it  if  you  wasn't  inclined  to  be  so  hard  headed,"  argued 
the  Elder. 

"  We'll  leave  personalities  out  of  it,  if  you  please,"  said 
Baptiste,  coloring. 

"  Oh,  but  if  your  sister  had  had  protection,  such  a  de- 
plorable incident  would  not  have  happened.  Now,  for  in- 
stance," argued  the  Elder,  "  my  girls  have  never  had  their 
good  names  embarrassed  with  such  incidents." 

"  Oh,  they  haven't,"  cried  Baptiste,  all  patience  gone. 
"  Then  what  about  their  half  brother  in  East  St.  Louis,  eh  ? 
And  the  other  one  who  died  —  was  stabbed  to  death.  Those 
were  yours,  and  you  were  never  married  to  their  mother !  " 

The  other's  face  became  terrible.  The  expression  upon 
his  face  was  dreadful  to  behold.  He  started  to  rise,  but 


THE  COWARD  271 

Baptiste  was  not  through.  He  was  thoroughly  aroused  now, 
and  all  he  had  stood  from  this  arch  sinner  had  come  back 
to  him.  Therefore,  before  the  other  could  deny  or  do  any- 
thing, said  he: 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  try  to  become  so  upset  over  it.  Your 
morals  are  common  knowledge  to  all  the  people  of  Illinois, 
and  elsewhere.  And  let  me  tell  you,  you  can  —  as  you  have 
—  in  your  family,  force  those  who  know  it  and  condemn  it 
to  keep  quiet  by  making  yourself  so  disagreeable  that  they 
will  honey  you  up  to  get  along  with  you.  But  it  is  not  be- 
cause they,  or  all  those  who  know  you,  are  not  aware  of  it! 
That's  your  reputation,  and  some  day  you  are  going  to  suffer 
for  it.  You  deliberately  make  people  miserable  to  satisfy 
your  infernal  vanity;  your  desire  to  be  looked  upon  and 
called  great.  Now  right  here  you  are  bent  upon  crucifying 
your  own  daughter's  happiness  just  because  I  haven't  tickled 
your  rotten  vanity,  and  lied."  He  arose  now,  and  pointed  a 
threatening  finger  at  the  other. 

"  You  are  out  to  injure  me,  and  you  are  taking  advan- 
tage of  your  own  child's  position  as  my  wife  to  do  so.  I'm 
going  to  let  you  go  ahead.  Orlean's  a  good  girl,  but  she's 
weak  like  the  mother  that  you  have  abused  for  thirty  years ! 
But  remember  this,  N.  J.  McCarthy,  and  I've  called  you 
Reverend  for  the  last  time.  The  evil  that  you  do  unto 
others  will  some  day  be  done  unto  you  and  will  drag  your 
ornery  heart  in  its  own  blood.  Mark  my  words !  "  And  the 
next  instant  he  was  gone. 

The  other  looked  after  him  uneasily.  The  truth  had 
come  so  forcibly,  so  impulsively,  so  abruptly,  that  it  had 
for  the  time  overcome  his  cunningness ;  but  only  for  a 
moment  after  the  other  had  disappeared  was  he  so.  He 
regained  his  usual  composure  soon  enough,  and  he  turned 


272 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


to  the  sick  woman  for  succor  —  to  her  whom  he  was  drag- 
ging down  to  the  gutter  of  misery  for  his  own  self 
aggrandizement. 

"  Did  you  hear  how  he  abused  your  father  ?  "  he  cried, 
the  tears  from  his  piggish  eyes  falling  on  her  cheeks.  She 
reached  and  stroked  his  white  hair,  and  mumbled  weak 
words. 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  I  would  come  to  this  —  be  brought 
to  this  through  the  daughter  that  I  have  loved  so  much.  Oh, 
poor  me,  your  poor  old  father,"  whereupon  he  wept  bitterly. 

"  You  see,  you  see,"  cried  Ethel,  who  had  risen  and  stood 
over  her,  pointing  her  finger  to  Orlean  as  she  lay  upon  the 
bed.  "  This  is  what  comes  of  marrying  that  man !  I  tried, 
oh,  I  tried  so  hard  to  have  you  see  that  no  good  could  come 
of  it,  no  good  at  all ! "  The  other  sighed.  She  was  too 
weak  from  mortification  to  reply  in  the  affirmative,  or  the 
negative. 

"  I  tried,  and  I  tried  to  have  you  desist,  but  you  would ! 
When  I  had  at  last  gotten  you  to  quit  him,  and  you  swore 
you  had,  no  sooner  did  he  come  and  place  his  arm  about  you 
and  whisper  fool  things  in  your  ear,  than  did  you  but  up 
and  consent  to  this.  This,  this,  do  you  hear?  This  that 
has  brought  your  poor  father  to  that ! "  and  she  stopped  to 
point  to  where  that  one  lay  stretched  across  the  bed,  sobbing. 

The  night  was  one  long,  miserable,  quarrelsome  night. 
Ethel  and  the  Elder  wore  themselves  out  abusing  Baptiste, 
and  along  toward  morning  all  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

Baptiste  met  them  the  next  morning  as  they  came  from 
the  rooms,  and  helped  his  wife  across  the  street  to  a  restau- 
rant. When  they  had  finished  the  meal,  he  said  to  her  as 
they  came  from  the  restaurant, 

"  Now,  dear,  I'll  step  into  the  bank  here  and  get  you 
some  money  — " 


THE  COWARD  273 

"  No,  no,  no,  Jean,"  she  said  quickly,  cutting  him  off  be- 
fore he  completed  what  he  had  started  to  say. 

"  Well,"  and  he  started  toward  the  bank  again  as  if  he 
had  not  understood  her. 

"  No,  no,  no,  Jean,"  she  repeated,  and  caught  his  arm 
nervously.  "  No,  don't !  " 

"  But  you  are  going  away,  dear,  and  will  surely  need 
money  ?  "  he  insisted. 

"  Yes,  but  — Jean  —  Jean  —  I  have  money." 

"  You  have  money  ?  "  repeated  the  other  uncomprehend- 
ingly.  "  But  how  came  you  with  money  ?  That  much 
money  ?  " 

"I  —  I  had  —  a  —  check  cashed.  That  is  —  papa  had 
one  cashed  for  me." 

"  Oh,  so  that  was  it.  M-m.  Your  father  had  it  cashed 
for  you  ?  "  he  understood  then,  and  his  suspicion  that  the 
Elder  had  intended  taking  her  to  Chicago  without  letting 
him  know  it  was  confirmed.  They  walked  down  the  street 
toward  the  depot,  and  while  she  held  nervously  to  his  arm, 
his  mind  was  concerned  with  his  thoughts.  It  occurred  to 
him  that  he  should  take  his  wife  back  to  the  claim  right  then. 
He  felt  that  if  she  went  to  Chicago  there  would  be  trouble. 
He  began  slowly  to  appreciate  that  in  dealing  with  Reverend 
McCarthy  he  was  not  dealing  with  a  man ;  nor  a  near  man. 
He  was  not  dealing  with  a  mere  liar,  or  a  thief,  even  —  he 
was  dealing  with  the  lowest  of  all  reptiles,  a  snake!  Then 
why  did  not  he,  Jean  Baptiste,  act? 

Perhaps  if  he  had,  we  should  never  have  had  this  story 
to  tell.  Jean  Baptiste  did-  not  act.  He  decided  to  let  her 
go.  Beyond  that  he  had  no  decision.  It  seemed  that  his 
mind  would  not  work  beyond  the  immediate  present.  Soon 
she  heard  him,  as  she  clung  to  his  arm,  allowing  her  body  to 
rest  against  his  shoulder : 


274 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  How  much  for,  Orlean?  " 

"  TWO  —  two  —  hundred  dollars." 

«  Why  —  two  hundred  dollars!"  he  cried.  "Why,  Or- 
lean, what  has  come  over  you  ?  "  She  burst  into  tears  then, 
and  clung  appealingly  to  him.  And  in  that  moment  she  was 
again  his  God-given  mate. 

"  Besides,"  he  went  on,  "  I  haven't  such  an  amount  in  the 
bank,  even."  He  looked  up.  A  half  a  block  in  their  lead 
walked  Reverend  McCarthy,  carrying  the  luggage. 

"  Papa,  p-a-pa ! "  called  Orlean  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 
Pa-p-a,"  she  called  again  and  again  until  she  fell  into  a  fit  of 
coughing.  He  halted,  and  was  uneasy,  Baptiste  could  see. 
They  came  up  to  him.  Orlean  was  running  despite  her 
husband's  effort  to  hold  her  back. 

"  Papa,  papa !  My  God,  give  Jean  back  that  money. 
Give  it  back,  I  say!  Oh,  I  didn't  want  to  do  this,  oh,  I 
didn't  want  to!  It  was  you  who  had  me  sign  that  check, 
you,  you,  you ! "  She  was  overcome  then,  and  fell  into  a 
swoon  in  her  husband's  arms.  He  stood  firmly,  bravely, 
then  like  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar.  His  face  was  very  hard, 
it  was  very  firm.  His  eyes  spoke.  It  told  the  one  before 
him  the  truth,  the  truth  that  was. 

And  as  the  other  ran  his  hand  to  his  inside  vest  pocket 
and  drew  forth  the  money,  he  kept  saying  in  a  low,  cowardly 
voice : 

"  It  was  her,  it  was  her.    She  did  it,  she  did  it! " 

Baptiste  took  the  money.  He  looked  at  it.  He  took  fifty 
dollars  from  it  and  handed  the  amount  to  the  other.  He 
spoke  then,  in  a  voice  that  was  singularly  dry: 

"  I  will  not  keep  her  from  going.  She  can  go ;  but  you 
know  I  ought  not  let  her." 

They  carried  her  to  where  the  cars  stood,  and  made  her 
comfortable  when  once  inside.  She  opened  her  eyes  when 


THE  COWARD  275 

he  was  about  to  leave  upon  hearing  the  conductor's  call. 
She  looked  up  into  his  eyes.  He  bent  and  kissed  her.  She 
looked  after  him  as  he  turned,  and  called :  "  Jean !  " 

"Yes,  Orlean!" 

"Goodby!" 

He  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  small  western  station 
as  the  train  pulled  down  the  track.  A  few  moments  later 
it  disappeared  from  view,  and  she  was  gone. 


EPOCH  THE  THIRD 


EPOCH  THE  THIRD 
CHAPTER  I 

CHICAGO  —  THE   BOOMERANG 

THE  REVEREND  McCARTHY  had  scored.  He 
had  succeeded  in  separating  his  daughter  from  the 
man  she  married.  The  fact  that  there  was  positively 
no  misunderstanding  between  the  two,  was  not  seen  or  con- 
sidered by  him.  Jean  Baptiste  had  opposed  him,  and  that 
was  enough.  He  hated  any  member  of  his  household,  or  any 
one  related  to  the  one  of  his  household  who  dared  disagree 
with  him.  Of  course  his  "  Majesty "  did  not  see  it  that 
way.  He  saw  himself  as  the  most  saintly  man  in  the  world 
and  sympathized  with  himself  accordingly.  No  man 
thought  himself  more  unjustly  abused  than  did  N.  Justine 
McCarthy. 

But  there  were  other  things  to  complete.  He  had  not 
wilfully  participated  in  what  had  just  passed  —  in  fact,  he 
had  not  meant  to  part  the  couple  at  all.  He  prided  himself 
with  having  some  judgment.  He  was  merely  undertaking 
that  which  in  a  way  had  grown  common  to  him  —  the  task 
of  getting  even. 

Now  he  had  estimated  that  he  knew  Jean  Baptiste,  al- 
though studying  characters  and  their  natural  tendencies  had 
not  been  a  part  of  his  theme  in  life.  He  felt  albeit,  that  he 
had  this  one's  tender  spot  clearly  before  him.  To  begin 
with:  he  put  himself  right  with  his  own  conscience  by  be- 
lieving that  Baptiste  was  a  vain,  selfish  character,  bent  on 
one  purpose  —  getting  rich!  He  concluded  —  because  he 

279 


28o  THE  HOMESTEADER 

wished  to  —  that  Baptiste  did  not,  and  had  never,  loved 
Orlean.  The  fact  that  Orlean  had  not  said  anything  to  the 
contrary  did  not  matter.  He  was  her  father,  and  therefore 
predicated  and  privileged  to  think  and  act  for  her.  That 
was  why  he  had  always  been  of  so  much  service,  such 
fatherly  help.  He  was  protecting  his  daughter  from  the 
cruelty  of  men.  But  how  he  had  planned  it  all ! 

"  Now  that  hard-headed  rascal/'  meaning  of  course  his 
son-in-law,  "  is  not  going  to  lay  down.  Oh,  no !  My  poor 
girl  has  that  claim.  He  does  not  want  her,  but  he  does  want 
the  claim.  To  hold  the  claim,  he  must  have  her,  and  have 
her  back  on  the  claim.  He's  all  war  now;  but  when  he 
realizes  that  to  lose  her  is  to  lose  the  claim  into  the  bargain 
—  oh,  well,  I'll  just  set  right  down  at  home  here  and  wait. 
Yes,  I'll  wait.  He'll  be  coming  along.  And  when  he  ap- 
pears here,  then  I'll  bend  his  ornery  will  into  the  right  way  of 
seeing  things."  So  thereupon  he  took  up  his  vigil,  wait- 
ing for  Jean  Baptiste  to  put  in  his  appearance. 

But  for  some  reason  the  other  had  not  hastened  to  Chicago 
as  soon  as  the  Elder  had  anticipated  he  would.  Three  weeks 
had  been  consumed  in  the  trip  West,  so  he  was  somewhat 
behind  in  his  church  work.  While  it  was  true  that  ministers 
in  some  of  the  towns  in  his  itinerary  collected  from  the  mem- 
bers at  the  quarterly  conference  and  sent  the  money  to  him ; 
on  the  other  hand  if  he  expected  to  get  what  was  due  him 
in  any  great  measure,  it  was  highly  necessary  that  he  be  there 
in  person.  Accordingly,  the  time  he  spent  in  Chicago,  wait- 
ing for  the  coming  of  his  son-in-law  that  he  might  have  the 
satisfaction  of  bending  the  other  to  his  will  began  to  grow 
long  and  irksome. 

Moreover,  if  he  sat  at  home,  he  was  obliged  to  meet  and 
greet  the  many  visitors  who  called  to  see  his  sick  daughter. 
More  largely  of  course  for  the  purpose  of  securing  in  forma- 


CHICAGO  — THE  BOOMERANG  281 

tion  for  gossip,  but  compelling  him  therefore  to  make  or 
offer  some  explanation.  And  here  arose  another  phase  of 
the  case  that  was  not  pleasant.  Following  Jean  Baptiste's 
marriage  to  Orlean,  and  after  the  Reverend  had  paid  them 
his  first  visit,  he  had  said  a  great  deal  in  praise  of  his  "  rich  " 
son-in-law.  That  he  was  so  extremely  vain,  was  why  he 
had  done  this.  It  had  tickled  his  vanity  to  have  the  people 
see  his  daughter  marry  so  well,  since  it  was  well  known 
about  Chicago  that  Jean  Baptiste  was  very  successful. 
When  the  Elder  had  boasted  to  the  people  he  met  of  the 
"  rich  "  man  his  daughter  had  married,  he  wrote  telling  the 
young  couple  of  it.  To  be  referred  to  as  "  rich  "  he  con- 
jectured, should  have  flattered  any  man's  vanity  —  it  would 
have  his  —  and  he  estimated  that  he  was  doing  Baptiste  a 
great  favor  when  he  let  him  know  that  he,  the  Elder,  was 
advertising  him  as  rich. 

But  the  same  had  brought  no  response  from  that  one.  He 
had  been  too  busy  to  take  any  interest  in  being  praised.  And 
even  after  the  Elder  had  made  his  first  visit,  and  returned 
and  told  of  the  wonders  his  daughter  had  married  into,  he 
still  hoped  this  would  soften  Baptiste's  disposition  into  prais- 
ing and  fawning  upon  him.  It  was  not  until  Baptiste  had 
returned  the  money  he  had  sent  his  daughter  for  railway 
fare  the  Xmas  before  that  the  Reverend  had  thrown  down 
the  gauntlet  and  declared  war.  So  the  very  thing  he  had 
played  up  a  few  months  before,  came  back  now  to  annoy  him. 
Because  he  had  never  lived  as  he  should  have  it  was  proving 
a  boomerang.  He  had  made  a  practice  of  pretending  not 
to  hear  what  was  being  said  about  him  by  others.  But  he 
could  not  seal  his  ears  to  the  fact  that  the  people  were  asking 
themselves  and  everybody  else  what  had  happened  to  his 
daughter,  or  between  his  daughter  and  the  "  rich  "  son-in- 
law.  This  was  very  uncomfortable,  it  was  very  annoying. 


282  THE  HOMESTEADER 

It  was  reported  that  he  was  compelled  to  go  out  West  and 
get  her,  and  it  was  exasperating  to  explain  all  without 
making  it  seem  that  what  he  had  said  a  few  months  before 
was  boast,  pure  and  simple. 

"  Yeh.  All  you  could  hear  a  few  months  ago,  was  the 
'  rich '  man  Orlean  had  married.  Yeh.  Mr.  Me.  would 
make  it  his  business  to  get  around  so  you  had  to  ask 
'im  about  them.  Then  he'd  swell  up  lak  a  big  frog  and  tell 
all  about  it.  Then  of  a  sudden  he  jumps  up  and  goes  out 
there  and  brings  her  back.  Ump !  Now  I  wonder  what  is 
the  mattah." 

During  these  times,  those  of  the  household  had  little 
peace.  With  impatience  over  Baptiste's  not  showing  up  so 
he  could  read  him  the  riot  act,  and  his  work  being  neglected ; 
with  having  to  listen  to  no  end  of  gossip  that  his  meddling 
had  brought  about,  he  became  the  most  obstinate  problem 
imaginable  about  the  house.  All  the  love  he  had  pretended 
for  Orlean  while  on  the  claim,  was  now  changed  to  severe 
chastisement.  He  no  longer  fondled  and  wasted  hours 
over  her.  She  had  no  longer  the  convenient  check  book. 
The  fact  that  she  had  to  have  a  little  medicine,  and  that  she 
also  had  to  have  other  necessities ;  that  she  had  to  eat  —  and 
the  most  of  this  he  was  forced  to  provide,  made  him  so 
irritable,  that  those  near  prayed  for  the  day  when  he  would 
leave.  But  if  Jean  Baptiste  would  only  come  so  that  he 
could  say  to  him  what  he  had  planned  to  say.  Just  to  have 
the  opportunity  to  bend  that  stubborn  will  —  that  would  be 
sufficient  to  repay  him  for  all  he  was  now  actually  sacri- 
ficing. 

As  for  "  Little  Mother  Mary "  these  were  the  darkest 
days  of  her  never  happy  married  life.  Of  all  the  men  she 
had  met  or  known,  she  had  truly  admired  and  loved  Jean 
Baptiste  more  than  any  other.  In  truth  it  was  her  disposi- 


CHICAGO  —  THE  BOOMERANG  283 

tion  to  be  frank,  kind  and  truthful.  She  dearly  loved  her 
son-in-law  for  his  manly  frank  and  kind  disposition.  She 
trusted  him,  and,  knowing  that  Orlean  was  of  her  disposi- 
tion, weak  and  subservient  to  the  will  of  those  near,  she  had 
been  relieved  to  feel  that  she  had  married  the  kind  of  man 
that  would  be  patient  and  love  a  person  with  such  a  dis- 
position. 

She  had  been  sincere  in  her  praise  of  him  to  her  many 
friends.  She  had  told  of  him  to  everybody  she  knew  or 
met.  So  much  so  indeed,  that  the  Reverend  on  his  last 
trip  West  in  his  daily  rebuke,  then  had  said :  "  And  Mary 
has  just  sickened  me  with  telling  everybody  she  meets  about 
Jean."  Ethel  had  joined  with  him  in  this.  The  truth  was 
that  when  her  mother  had  sung  her  praise  to  the  people  re- 
garding Jean  Baptiste,  there  was  nothing  left  to  say  about 
Glavis,  but  more  especially  about  the  Elder. 

What  the  Reverend  was  forced  to  endure  at  this  time, 
he  promptly  of  course  charged  to  the  indiscretions  of  Jean 
Baptiste.  If  he  had  not  done  this,  or  if  .he  had  done  that,  the 
Elder  would  not  have  been  forced  to  endure  such  annoy- 
ance. If  he  would  only  show  up  with  his  practical  ideas  in 
Chicago!  Every  morning  when  the  door  bell  rang,  he 
listened  eagerly  for  the  voice  of  his  son-in-law.  He 
watched  the  mail,  and  in  assorting  the  letters,  looked  anx- 
iously for  the  Western  postmark.  But  a  week  passed,  and 
no  letter  and  no  Jean  Baptiste.  Then  at  the  end  of  two 
weeks,  the  same  prevailed.  And  at  the  end  of  three  weeks, 
he  knew  he  would  have  to  go  to  work  or  reckon  with  the 
bishop. 

So  on  Tuesday  of  the  following  week,  the  Elder  left  for 
his  work,  and  that  same  afternoon,  Jean  Baptiste  arrived  in 
Chicago. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   GREAT   QUESTION 

THE  DAYS  that  followed  after  the  Elder  had  taken  his 
wife  away,  were  unhappy  days  for  Jean  Baptiste. 
In  his  life  there  were  certain  things  he  had  held 
sacred.  Chief  among  these  was  the  marriage  vow.  While 
a  strong  willed,  obviously  firm  sort  of  person,  he  was  by 
nature  sentimental.  He  had  among  his  sentiments  been  an 
enemy  of  divorces.  Nothing  to  him  was  so  distasteful  as  the 
theory  of  divorce.  He  had  always  conjectured  that  if  a 
man  did  not  drink,  or  gamble,  or  beat  his  wife  there  could  be 
no  great  cause  for  divorce ;  whereas,  with  the  woman,  if  she 
was  not  guilty  of  infidelity  a  man  could  find  no  just  cause, 
on  the  whole,  to  ask  for  a  divorce.  But  whatever  the  cause 
be  —  even  a  just  cause  —  he  disliked  the  divorcing  habit. 
He  persisted  in  believing  that  if  two  people  whose  lives  were 
linked  together  would  get  right  down  to  a  careful  un- 
derstanding and  an  appreciation  of  each  other's  sentiments, 
or  points  of  view,  they  could  find  it  possible  to  live  to- 
gether and  be  happy. 

Fancy  therefore,  how  this  man  must  have  felt  when  he 
arrived  at  the  little  house  upon  the  wife's  claim  and  found 
his  grandmother  alone.  They  had  taken  his  wife  and  all  her 
belongings.  He  lived  in  a  sort  of  quandary  in  the  days  that 
followed.  His  very  existence  became  mechanical.  And  one 
day  while  in  this  unhappy  state,  he  chanced  to  find  a  little 
sun  bonnet  that  they  had  evidently  overlooked.  She  had 

284 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  285 

bought  it  the  summer  before,  and  it  was  too  small.  But  he 
recalled  now  that  he  had  thought  that  it  made  her  look  very 
sweet.  How  much  the  bonnet  meant  to  him  now !  He 
placed  it  carefully  away,  and  when  he  was  alone  in  the  house 
in  after  days  with  only  her  memory  as  a  companion  he 
would  get  and  bring  it  forth,  gaze  at  it  long  and  tenderly. 
It  seemed  to  bring  back  the  summer  before  when  he  had 
been  hopeful  and  happy  and  gay.  It  brought  him  more 
clearly  to  realize  and  appreciate  what  marriage  really  meant 
and  the  sacred  vow.  And  during  these  hours  he  would 
imagine  he  could  see  her  again ;  that  she  was  near  and  from 
under  the  little  bonnet  that  was  too  small  he  communed 
with  her  and  he  would  thereupon  hold  a  mythical  conversa- 
tion, with  her  as  the  listener. 

Was  it  all  because  Jean  Baptiste  loved  his  wife?  What 
is  there  between  love  and  duty  ?  It  had  never  been  as  much 
a  question  with  Jean  Baptiste  as  to  how  much  he  loved 
her  as  it  was  a  question  of  duty.  She  was  his  wife  by  the 
decree  of  God  and  the  law  of  the  land.  Whatever  he  had 
been,  or  might  have  been  to  others,  therefore  had  gone 
completely  out  of  his  mind  when  he  had  taken  her  to  him 
as  wife.  And  now  that  she  was  away,  to  his  mind  first  came 
the  question,  why  was  she  away? 

Yes,  that  was  the  great  question.     Why  was  she  awayf 

Oh,  the  agony  this  question  gave  the  man  of  our  story. 

Not  one  serious  quarrel  had  they  ever  had.  Not  once  had 
he  spoken  harshly  to  her,  nor  had  she  been  cross  with  him. 
Not  once  had  the  thought  entered  his  mind  that  they  would 
part ;  they  they  could  part ;  that  they  would  ever  wish  to  part. 
In  the  beginning,  true,  there  had  been  some  little  difficulties 
before  they  had  become  adjusted  to  each  other's  ways.  But 
that  had  taken  only  a  few  months,  after  which  they  had 
gradually  become  devoted  to  each  other.  And  so  their  lives 


286  THE  HOMESTEADER 

had  become.  Out  there  in  the  "hollow  of  God's  hand," 
their  lives  had  become  assimilated,  they  had  looked  forward 
to  the  future  when  there  would  be  the  little  ones,  enlarging 
their  lives  and  duties. 

And  yet,  why  was  his  wife  in  Chicago  without  even  a  letter 
from  her  to  him ;  or  one  from  him  to  her  ?  Why,  why,  why? 

N.  Justine  McCarthy ! 

Oh,  the  hatred  that  began  to  grow  —  spread  and  take  roots 
in  the  breast  of  this  man  of  the  prairie  toward  the  man  who 
had  wilfully  and  deliberately  wronged  him,  wrecked  that 
which  was  most  sacred  to  him.  The  days  came  and  went, 
but  that  evil,  twisting,  warping  hatred  remained;  it  grew, 
it  continued  to  grow  until  his  very  existence  became  a  burden 
and  a  misery.  No  days  were  happy  days  to  him.  From 
the  moment  he  awakened  in  the  morning  until  he'  was  lost  in 
slumbers  in  the  evening,  Jean  Baptiste  knew  no  peace. 
While  that  perpetrator  of  his  unhappiness  waited  impatiently 
in  Chicago  with  plans  to  grind  and  humiliate  him  further, 
this  man  began  to  formulate  plans  also.  With  all  the  bitter 
hatred  in  his  soul  against  the  cause  of  his  unhappiness,  his 
plans  were  not  the  plans  of  "  getting  even,"  but  merely  to 
see  his  wife  where  no  subtle  influences  could  hamper  her 
or  warp  her  convictions  and  reason.  He  knew  that  to  write 
to  her  would  be  but  to  prove  useless.  The  letters  would  be 
examined  and  criticized  by  those  around  her.  He  knew  that 
sending  her  money  would  be  only  regarded  as  an  evidence  of 
weakening  on  his  part,  and  if  he  was  to  deal,  weakness 
must  have  no  place.  So  as  to  how  he  might  see  his  wife,  and 
give  her  an  opportunity  to  appreciate  duty,  became  his  daily 
determination. 

The  great  steam  tractor,  breaking  prairie  on  his  sister's 
homestead  was  diligently  at  its  task,  and  while  it  turned  over 
from  twenty  to  thirty  acres  of  wild  sod  each  day,  it  also  ate 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  287 

coal  like  a  locomotive.  So  to  it  he  was  kept  busy  hauling 
coal  over  the  thirty-five  miles  from  Colome.  On  the  land 
he  was  having  broken  (for  he  had  teams  breaking  prairie 
in  addition  to  the  tractor)  he  had  arranged  to  sow  flaxseed. 
For  two  years  preceding  this  date,  crops  had  been  per- 
ceptibly shorter,  due  to  drought.  Therefore  seeds  of  all 
kind  had  attained  a  much  higher  price  than  previously. 
Flaxseed  that  he  had  raised  and  sold  thousands  of  bushels 
of  in  years  gone  by  for  one  dollar  a  bushel  he  was  now  com- 
pelled to  pay  the  sum  of  $3.00  a  bushel  therefor. 

So  with  a  steam  tractor  hired  at  an  average  cost  of  $60 
a  day ;  with  extra  men  in  addition  to  be  boarded ;  and  with 
hauling  the  coal  for  the  tractor  himself  such  a  distance  and 
other  expenses,  Jean  Baptiste,  unlike  his  august- father-in- 
law,  had  little  time  or  patience  to  sit  around  consuming  his 
time  and  substance  perpetrating  a  game  of  spite. 

But  he  was  positive  that  he  would  needs  lose  his  mental 
balance  unless  he  journey  to  Chicago  and  see  his  wife. 
Alone  she  would  have  time,  he  conjectured  to  think,  to  see 
and  to  realize  just  what  she  was  doing.  Why  should  they  be 
separated  ?  Positively  there  was  nothing  and  never  had  been 
anything  amiss  between  them,  was  what  passed  daily  through 
his  mind.  Well,  he  decided  that  he  would  go  to  her  as  soon 
as  he  had  arranged  matters  so  he  could.  He  was  peeved 
when  he  recalled  that  the  spring  before  he  had  been  forced 
to  make  a  trip  to  that  same  city  that  could  as  well  have  been 
avoided.  But  when  anything  had  to  be  done,  Jean  Baptiste 
usually  went  after  it  and  was  through.  In  business  where 
he  was  pitted  against  men,  this  was  not  difficult,  and  instead 
of  disliking  to  face  such  music,  he  rather  relished  the  zest 
it  gave  him.  But  when  a  man  is  dealing  with  a  snake  —  for 
nothing  else  can  a  man  who  would  sacrifice  his  own  blood 
to  vanity  be  likened  to,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  task 


288  THE  HOMESTEADER 

worried  Jean  Baptiste.  If  N.  Justine  McCarthy  had  been  a 
reader,  an  observer,  and  a  judge  of  mankind  as  well  as  a 
student  of  human  nature  and  its  vicissitudes  he  could  have 
realized  that  murder  was  not  short  for  such  actions  as  he 
was  perpetrating.  But  here  again  Jean  Baptiste  was  too 
busy.  He  had  no  time  to  waste  in  jail  —  for  even  if  kill- 
ing the  man  who  had  done  him  such  an  injury  be  justified 
he  realized  that  justice  in  such  cases  works  slowly.  But 
it  would  be  vain  and  untruthful  to  say  that  with  the  bitter- 
ness in  his  heart,  Jean  Baptiste  did  not  reach  a  point  in  his 
mind  where  he  could  have  slain  in  cold  blood  the  man  with 
whom  he  was  dealing. 

At  last  came  the  time  when  he  could  be  spared  from  his 
farm,  and  to  Chicago  he  journeyed.  Positively  this  was  one 
trip  to  that  city  that  gave  him  no  joy.  He  estimated  before 
reaching  there,  that  he  should  best  not  call  up  the  house,  but 
bide  his  time  and  try  to  meet  his  wife  elsewhere.  But  when 
he  arrived  in  the  city,  and  not  being  a  coward,  he  dismissed 
this  idea  and  went  directly  to  the  house  in  Vernon  Avenue. 

He  was  met  at  the  door  by  "  Little  Mother  Mary,"  who  did 
not  greet  him  as  she  might  have,  but  for  certain  reasons. 
The  most  she  could  do  even  to  live  in  the  same  atmosphere 
with  her  husband  was  to  pretend  to  act  in  accordance  with 
his  sentiments.  Baptiste  followed  her  back  to  the  rear  room 
where  she  took  a  seat  and  he  sat  down  beside  her.  She  had 
uttered  no  word  of  greeting,  but  he  came  directly  to  the 
point.  "  Where  is  Orlean  ?  " 

"  She's  out." 

"Out  where?" 

"  She  just  walked  out  into  the  street." 

"How  is  she?" 

"  Better  than  when  she  came  home,"  meaningly. 

"  When  she  was  brought  home,"  he  corrected. 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  289 

"Well?" 

"  But  I  am  not  here  to  argue  whereof.  I  am  here  to  see 
her." 

"  But  she's  out." 

"  However,  she'll  return,  I  hope.  If  not,  then,  where 
might  I  find  her  ?  " 

"  She'll  return  presently." 

He  was  silent  for  a  time  while  she  regarded  him  nervously, 
listening  in  the  meantime  as  if  expecting  some  one.  She  was 
afraid.  Her  husband  had  left  the  city  only  that  morning; 
but  behind  him  he  had  left  an  escutcheon  who  could  —  and 
was,  as  capable  of  making  matters  as  disagreeable.  It  was 
Ethel,  and  Mrs.  McCarthy  was  aware  that  that  one  was 
upstairs.  The  household  had  been  conducted  according  to 
the  desires  and  dictates  of  the  Elder.  Wherefore  she  was 
uneasy.  Baptiste  observed  her  now,  and  made  mental  note 
as  to  the  cause  of  the  expression  of  uneasiness  upon  her  face. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  sighed. 

"What's  the  matter,  Mother  Mary?"  he  asked  kindly. 
Her  love  and  admiration  asserted  itself  momentarily  in  the 
look  with  which  she  replied  to  him.  How  in  that  moment 
she  wanted  to  tell  him  all,  and  to  be  to  him  as  she  had 
always  wanted  to  be.  But  only  a  moment  was  she  so,  then 
that  look  of  hunted  fear  overspread  her  face  again,  and  she 
turned  uneasily  toward  the  stairs. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  what  the  matter  is,  mother  ? "  she 
heard  him  again.  For  answer  the  quick  glance  over  her 
shoulder  was  sufficient.  It  was  as  if  to  say.  "  Hush ! 
Enemies  are  near !  "  He  then  estimated  that  the  Elder  had 
gone  to  the  southern  part  of  the  state,  but  Ethel  must  be 
near,  and  it  was  Ethel  whom  the  mother  feared.  He  under- 
stood then,  that  the  Reverend  had  a  cunning  way  of  having 


290  THE  HOMESTEADER 

Ethel  do  his  bidding.  Because  she  was  possessed  of  his 
evil  disposition,  he  could  trust  her  to  carry  out  anything  on 
this  order  —  that  is,  providing  she  disliked  the  person  in 
question,  and  that  was  usually  the  case,  for,  like  him,  there 
were  few  people  whom  she  really  liked. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  my  child  ?  "  he  heard  from 
Mother  Mary,  presently.  He  studied  her  face  again  and 
saw  that  she  was  trying  to  reckon  with  him  herself,  although 
he  knew  that  it  mattered  little  what  she  thought  or  did  on 
the  whole. 

"  Has  she  told  you  what  I  have  been  doing  to  her  ?  "  he 
said.  She  shifted  uncomfortably,  looked  around  a  little, 
listened  for  a  sound  that  she  expected  to  hear  sooner  or  later, 
and  then  replied,  and  in  doing  so,  he  saw  that  she  was  again 
subservient  to  the  old  training. 

"  My  husband  told  me,"  she  countered. 

"  Oh,"  he  echoed. 

"  You  have  not  acted  with  discretion,"  she  said  again,  and 
he  understood  her.  Acting  with  "  discretion  "  would  been 
never  to  have  given  the  Reverend  an  excuse  for  making  that 
trip.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  been  good  to  your  daughter ;  a  husband  to  the  best 
of  my  ability." 

"  But  you  —  you  —  should  not  have  blundered."  Again 
he  was  reminded  of  what  it  meant  to  displease  or  give  her 
husband  any  excuse. 

"  I  did  not  agree  in  this  room  a  year  ago  to  be  regardful 
of  the  opinion  of  others,"  he  defended.  "  I  agreed  to  the 
word  of  the  law  and  of  God.  I  have  tried  to  fulfill  that 
word.  I  did  not  intend  to  be  absent  when  the  child  came." 
She  shifted  again  uneasily,  and  her  mind  went  back  to  the 
day  Orlean  was  born  and  that  her  husband,  too,  had  been 
away.  .  .  . 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  291 

"  If  I  can  see  Orlean  that  will  be  sufficient,"  he  said. 

"  She  went  to  walk." 

"Mother?" 

She  regarded  him  again,  and  then  turned  her  eyes  away 
for  she  could  not  stand  to  look  long  into  his.  The  truth 
there  would  upset  her  and  she  knew  it. 

"  Why  must  this  be  so  ?  "  She  shifted  uneasily  again. 
Oh,  if  she  could  only  be  brave.  If  she  could  only  dare  — 
but  she  was  not  brave,  Orlean  was  not  brave.  They  had 
lived  their  lives  too  long  subservient  to  the  will  of  others 
to  attempt  bravery  now.  She  rested  her  eyes  on  some  sew- 
ing she  pretended  to  do  and  waited.  It  could  only  be  for  a 
little  while.  Ethel  must  learn  sooner  or  later  of  his  pres- 
ence, and  then — !  There  would  be  a  scene  or  he  must 
go. 

"  It's  a  shame,"  said  the  other. 

"  You  should  have  been  careful,"  she  returned  meaningly. 
But  in  her  mind  was  still  the  dream.  If  she  could  be 
brave.  .  .  . 

"  Mother !  "  called  some  one  sharply.  Jean  recognized  the 
voice,  the  command.  The  other's  face  went  pale  for  a 
moment,  while  her  eyes  closed.  He  understood.  The  worst 
had  come.  In  the  minutes  they  had  been  sitting  there,  she 
had  almost  dared  hope  that  Orlean  would  return,  and  that 
in  some  way  —  perhaps  it  would  have  to  come  from  heaven 
—  they  could  fly.  But  chances  now  were  gone.  His  cohort 
had  appeared.  "  Who  is  it  out  there  ?  "  she  asked,  and  came 
toward  where  they  sat.  She  saw  him  then,  and  regarded 
him  coldly.  Through  her  mind  shot  the  fact  that  her  father 
had  waited  three  weeks  for  him,  and  had  just  left  that  morn- 
ing. Her  disappointment  was  keen.  For  a  moment  she  was 
frightened.  In  truth  she  held  a  fearsome  admiration  for  the 
man,  and  then  she  stiffened.  She  had  come  back  to  herself ; 


292 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


to  the  fact  that  she  had  a  reputation  for  being  disagreeable. 
She  turned  to  him,  and  said : 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

He  answered  her  not.     Her  mother  was  trembling. 

"  Get  out  of  this  house !  "  she  commanded,  getting  control 
of  herself. 

Baptiste  was  in  a  quandary.  He  recalled  how  he  had  seen 
her  make  her  husband  jump  as  if  trying  to  get  out  of  his 
skin  when  she  was  in  her  evil  spasms. 

"  Did  you  hear !  "  she  almost  screamed. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  my  wife,"  he  replied  then  calmly. 

"  She  is  my  sister !  "  she  screamed  again. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  aware  of  that." 

"  Then  you  cannot  have  her !  " 

"  She  is  mine  already." 

"  You're  a  liar ! "  she  yelled,  crying  now,  and  her  evil 
little  face  screwed  up  horribly  in  her  anger.  Mrs.  Mc- 
Carthy was  trembling  as  if  a  chill  had  come  over  her. 
Ethel  suddenly  flew  to  the  'phone.  She  got  a  number,  and 
he  heard  her  scream: 

"  Glavis !  Glav — is.  .  .  That  man  is  here !  .  .  .  Glav — is ! 
.  .  .  That  man  is  here !  .  .  ."  He  could  understand  no 
more,  then,  but  saw  that  she  was  frantic.  He  finally  heard 
Mother  Mary. 

"  You're  wanted  at  the  'phone,"  she  said,  tremblingly. 
He  got  up  and  went  to  it.  Ethel  was  dancing  about  the 
room  like  a  demon. 

"  Hello !  "  he  called. 

"  Hello !  "  came  back.  "  Ah  —  ha  —  who  —  who  —  who 
is  th-is  ?  "  the  other  sputtered,  all  excitement. 

"  Baptiste,"  replied  the  other,  wondering  at  his  excite- 
ment, 

"  Wh — at  a — re  yo — u  do-i-ng  a — t  m-y  h-o-u-s-e  ?  " 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION  293 

"  Oh,  say,"  called  back  Baptiste.  "  There's  nobody  dead 
out  here.  Now  calm  yourself  and  say  what  you  want  to. 
I'm  listening." 

"  We— 11,"  said  the  other,  a  little  better  controlled.  "  I 
ask  what  you  are  doing  at  my  house  ?  " 

"  Your  house ! "  echoed  Baptiste,  uncomprehendingly. 
"  Why,  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  are  doing  at  my  house  after 
what  you  said  about  me !  " 

"  At  your  house  after  what  I  said  about  you ! "  Baptiste 
repeated. 

"  Yes.  You  said  I  was  '  nothing  but  a  thirteen  dollars  a 
week  jockey/  and  all  that."  Baptiste  was  thoughtful.  He 
had  never  said  anything  about  Glavis  —  and  then  he  under- 
stood. Some  more  of  the  Elder's  work. 

"  Now,  Glavis,  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean  when 
you  say  what  I  said  about  you ;  but  as  for  my  being  here, 
that  is  distinctly  no  wish  of  mine.  But  you  know  my  wife 
is  here,  and  it  is  her  I  am  here  to  see.  No  other." 

"  But  I  want  to  see  you  downtown  —  you  come  down 
here!" 

Baptiste  was  thoughtful.  He  knew  that  he  could  exert 
no  influence  over  Orlean  when  she  did  return  with  Ethel 
acting  as  she  was,  so  he  might  as  well  be  downtown  for  the 
present  as  elsewhere.  So  he  answered : 

"  Well,  alright." 

Ethel  slammed  and  locked  the  door  behind  him,  and  he 
walked  over  to  Cottage  Grove  Avenue  and  boarded  a  car. 


CHAPTER  III 

GLAVIS   MAKES  A   PROMISE 

G  LA  VIS  tried  to  appear  very  serious  when  Baptiste 
called  at  where  he  worked  an  hour  later,  but  it  was 
beyond  him  to  be  so.  It  was  said  that  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  trying  to  appear  like  the  Reverend,  but  since 
the  pretended  seriousness  of  that  one  had  never  affected 
Jean  Baptiste,  Glavis'  affectation  had  still  less  effect, 

"  Well,  Glavis,"  he  began  pointedly.  "  I'm  here  as  per 
your  suggestion,  and  since  it  is  quite  plain  what  the  matter 
is,  we  may  as  well  come  directly  to  the  point/' 

"  Well,  yes,  Baptiste,  I  guess  I  may  as  well  agree  with 
you,"  replied  Glavis. 

"  Then,  to  begin  with.  That  remark  you  made  over  the 
'phone  regarding  what  I  had  said  about  you,  let  me  say  is 
a  falsehood  pure  and  simple.  What  I  said  or  would  say  to 
your  back  I  will  say  to  your  face." 

"  Well,  Baptiste,"  he  replied  quickly,  and  his  expression 
confirmed  the  words  that  followed,  "  I  believe  you." 

"  I  have  no  occasion  to  lie.  It  is  very  plain  that  our 
father-in-law  and  I  are  not  in  accord,  and  while  it  may  be 
nothing  to  you  perhaps,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  there 
is  nothing  wrong  between  Orlean  and  me  —  and  never  has 
been.  It  is  all  between  her  father  and  me,  and  he  is  using 
her  as  the  means." 

"  Well,  that  is  rather  direct,"  suggested  Glavis. 

"  Evidently  so ;  but  it's  the  truth  and  you  know  it.  It  is 
simply  a  case  which  you  are  supposed  not  to  see  all  sides  of." 

294 


GLAVIS  MAKES  A  PROMISE  295 

"  Now,  Baptiste,"  defended  Glavis,  "  I  am  no  party  to 
your  wife's  being  here  in  Chicago." 

"  And  I  agree  with  you,"  returned  Baptiste.  "  It  is  not 
your  nature  to  make  trouble  between  people,  Glavis.  I'll 
do  you  that  honor.  People  are  inclined  to  follow  their  natu- 
ral bent,  and  yours.  I  repeat,  is  not  to  cause  others  misery. 
Therefore,  you  can  rest  assured  that  I  do  not  mean  to  in- 
volve you  in  any  of  my  troubles." 

"  That  is  sure  manly  in  you,  Baptiste,"  Glavis  said  heartily. 

"  But  it  is  a  fact,  I  venture,  that  you  have  been  advised 
that  I  spoke  ill  of  you  —  at  least,  I  spoke  disparagingly  of 
you  while  your  folks  were  in  the  West.  Am  I  speaking 
correctly  ?  " 

"  I'll  have  to  admit  that  you  are,"  and  he  scowled  a  little. 

"  Do  you  believe  these  statements  ?  " 

The  other  scowled  again,  but  didn't  have  the  courage  to 
say  that  he  did  —  or,  perhaps  to  lie.  He  knew  why  he  had 
been  told  what  he  had.  To  unite  with  the  Reverend  in  his 
getting  even  with  Baptiste,  Glavis  had  been  told  that  Baptiste 
had  "  run  him  down." 

"  Well,  Glavis,  the  fact  that  my  wife  is  at  your  home  — 
under  your  roof  —  I,  her  husband,  am  therefore  placed  at 
a  disadvantage  thereby.  You  cannot  help  being  indirectly 
implicated  in  whatever  may  happen." 

"  Now,  now,  Baptiste,"  the  other  cried  quickly.  "  I  do 
not  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  you  and  Orlean's 
troubles.  I  — " 

"  It  is  not  Orlean  and  my  troubles,  Glavis.  It  is  her  fa- 
ther's and  my  troubles." 

Glavis  shifted  uncomfortably.  Presently  he  said  hesitat- 
ingly : 

"  The  old  man  just  left  town  this  morning.  Wished  you 
and  he  could  have  had  your  outs  together." 


296  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Yes,  it  is  too  bad  we  did  not.  As  I  see  it,  I  have  no 
business  with  him.  In  him  I  am  not  interested,  and  never 
have  been.  Because  I  have  held  aloof  from  becoming  so 
is  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  I  was  told  before  I  married 
Orlean,  and  by  her  herself,  that  I  should  praise  her  father ; 
that  I  should  make  him  think  that  he  was  a  king,  if  I  would 
get  along  with  him.  Indeed,  I  did  not,  I  confess,  at  the  time 
consider  it  to  be  as  grave  as  that,  that  I  had  this  to  do  in 
order  to  live  with  Orlean." 

It  was  positively  uncomfortable  to  Glavis.  He  could  find 
no  words  to  disagree  with  the  other  because  he  knew  that  he 
spoke  the  truth.  He  knew  that  he  had  catered  to  the  Rever- 
end's vanity  to  be  allowed  to  pay  court  to  Ethel  before  he 
was  married  to  her ;  he  knew  that  he  had  done  so  since ;  and 
he  knew  —  and  did  not  always  like  it  —  that  he  was  still 
doing  so,  and  boarding  the  Reverend's  wife  into  the  bargain, 
and  Orlean  now  was  added  thereto.  He  did  not  relish  the 
task.  He  earned  only  a  small  salary  that  was  insufficient 
for  his  own  and  his  wife's  needs.  Up  to  a  certain  point  his 
wife  defied  her  father;  but  since  she  was  so  like  him  in 
disposition,  and  had  been  instrumental  in  assisting  to  sepa- 
rate Orlean  and  her  husband,  she  had  not  the  courage  to 
rebel  and  compel  —  at  least  insist  —  that  the  Reverend  take 
care  of  his  wife  and  the  daughter  he  had  parted  from  her 
husband. 

So  it  was  all  thrown  onto  Glavis.  He  made  a  few  dol- 
lars extra  each  week  by  various  means,  and  this  helped  him 
a  little.  In  truth,  he  wished  that  Orlean  was  with  her  hus- 
band, and  knowing  very  well  that  there  was  where  she 
wanted  to  be,  he  was  inclined  for  the  moment  to  try  to  help 
Baptiste.  Besides,  he  rather  admired  the  man.  Few  peo- 
ple could  be  oblivious  to  the  personality  of  Baptiste  and  be 
honest  with  themselves.  Even  the  Elder  had  always  found 


GLAVIS  MAKES  A  PROMISE  297 

it  expedient  to  be  disagreeable  in  order  to  dispel  the  effect 
of  his  son-in-law's  frank  personality. 

"  The  way  we  are  lined  up,  Glavis,  you  must  appreciate 
that  you  cannot  keep  out  of  it.  You  are  aware  that  I  have 
no  wish  to  hang  around  your  abode;  but  I  didn't  come  all 
the  way  from  the  West  to  fail  to  see  Orlean.  You  know 
full  well  that  Ethel  would  never  let  her  meet  me  elsewhere, 
that  her  father  has  left  orders  to  that  effect.  Now,  what  am 
I  to  do?  If  I  call,  your  wife  will  make  it  so  disagreeable 
that  nothing  can  be  accomplished." 

"  Dammit !  "  exclaimed  Glavis  suddenly.  "  It  isn't  all  my 
fault  or  the  old  man's  or  my  wife's !  It's  Orlean's  !  " 

"  Well,"  agreed  Baptiste,  thoughtfully,  "  on  the  whole,  that 
is  so." 

"  Of  course  it  is !  If  Orlean  was  a  woman  she  would  be 
right  out  there  with  you  now  where  she  belongs !  " 

"  And  I  agree  with  you  again,  Glavis.  But  Orlean  isn't 
a  woman,  and  that  is  what  I  have  been  trying  to  make  her. 
She  has  never  been  a  woman  —  wasn't  reared  so  to  be.  By 
nature  she  is  like  her  mother,  and  she  has  grown  up  accord- 
ing to  her  training." 

"  She  cannot  be  two  things  at  the  same  time,"  Glavis 
argued,  "  and  that  is  a  daughter  to  her  father  and  a  wife 
to  you ! " 

"No,  that  is  where  the  difficulty  lay,"  said  Baptiste. 
"  But  her  father's  influence  over  her  is  great,  you  will 
admit.  She  has  been  taught  to  agree  with  him,  and  that  — 
I  can  never,  nor  will  I  try  to  do." 

"  It  certainly  beats  hell !  " 

"  It's  the  most  awkward  situation  I  have  ever  been  placed 
in.  But  here's  the  idea :  I  took  that  girl  for  better  or  for 
worse.  Now,  what  am  I  to  do?  Throw  up  my  hands  and 
quit,  or  try  to  see  Orlean  and  get  her  around  to  reason? 


298  THE  HOMESTEADER 

It  isn't  Orlean.  It's  her  father.  So  I  have  concluded  to 
make  some  sort  of  a  fight.  Life  and  marriage  are  too  seri- 
ous just  to  let  matters  go  like  this." 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  agreed  Glavis.  "  It  certainly  worries  me. 
And  it  annoys  me  because  it  is  so  unnecessary."  He  was 
thoughtful  and  then  suddenly  he  said : 

"  I'm  sorry  you  let  the  old  man  —  er  —  ah  —  get  you 
mixed  up  like  this."  He  appeared  as 'if  he  wished  to  say 
more.  To  say  that :  "  For  when  you  let  him  get  into  it, 
the  devil  would  be  to  pay!  Keep  him  out  of  your  affairs 
if  you  would  live  in  peace." 

"  Well,"  said  Baptiste,  rising,  "  your  time  here  belongs  to 
the  company  you  are  working  for,  and  not  to  me  or  my 
troubles.  So  I'm  going  to  '  beat '  it  now  out  to  Thirty-first 
Street." 

"  Well,"  returned  Glavis,  "  believe  me,  Baptiste,  I'm  sorry 
for  you,  and  for  Orlean.  It's  rotten."  It  was  remarkable 
how  he  saw  what  was  causing  it;  but  how  he  cleverly  kept 
from  directly  accusing  his  father-in-law.  "And  I'll  meet 
you  at  Thirty-first  Street  after  supper.  At  the  Keystone, 
remember."  With  that  he  grasped  the  other's  hand  warmly, 
and  as  Jean  Baptiste  went  down  the  stairway  from  where 
Glavis  worked,  he  knew  that  he  had  a  friend  who  at  least 
wanted  to  help  right  a  most  flagrant  wrong.  The  only  ques- 
tion was,  would  E.  M.  Glavis  have  the  courage  to  go  through 
with  it? 

Well,  Glavis  might  have  the  courage  —  but  Ethel  was  his 
wife.  And  Jean  Baptiste  realized  that  of  all  things  in  the 
world,  a  woman's  influence  is  the  most  subtle. . 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  GAMBLER'S  STORY 

THE  KEYSTONE  was  the  oldest  and  most  elite  hos- 
telry for  Negroes  in  Chicago  and  the  West  for  many 
years.  It  is  located  near  Thirty-first  and  State 
Street,  in  the  heart  of  the  black  belt  of  the  southside  of  the 
city.  It  was  built  previous  to  the  World's  Fair  and  still 
maintains  its  prestige  as  the  most  popoular  hangout  for 
Negroes  of  the  more  ostentatious  set.  And  it  was  here  that 
Jean  Baptiste  went,  following  his  departure  with  Glavis. 

When  Chicago  was  a  "  wide  open  "  town,  gambling  had 
been  carried  on  upstairs  as  a  business.  Porters,,  waiters, 
barbers  and  politicians  who  held  the  best  jobs  had  always 
found  their  way  eventually  to  the  Keystone.  Likewise  did 
the  Negroes  in  business  and  the  professions  and  workers  in 
all  the  trades,  as  well  as  mail  carriers,  mail  clerks,  and  the 
men  of  the  army  and  actors.  In  short  the  Keystone  was  the 
meeting  place  for  men  in  nearly  all  the  walks  of  life. 

Always  the  freest  city  in  the  world  for  the  black  man, 
Chicago  has  the  most  Negroes  in  the  mail  service  and  the 
civil  service;  more  Negroes  carry  clubs  as  policemen;  more 
can  be  found  in  all  the  departments  of  the  municipal  courts, 
county  commissioners,  aldermen,  corporation  counsels,  game 
warden  assistants,  and  so  on  down.  Indeed,  a  Negro  feels 
freer  and  more  hopeful  in  Chicago  than  anywhere  else  in 
the  United  States. 

So  it  was  such  a  crowd  that  Jean  Baptiste  encountered  at 
the  Keystone  that  day.  There  were  two  real  estate  men 

299 


300 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


who  had  once  run  on  the  road  with  him  and  who  had  since 
succeeded  in  business;  also  there  was  another  who  was  a 
county  commissioner ;  and  still  another  one,  an  army  officer. 
So,  upon  seeing  him  they  did  all  cry : 

"  Baptiste !  Well,  well,  of  all  things  !  And  how  do  you 
happen  to  be  down  here  in  the  spring  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  little  business,"  he  returned,  and  joined  with  the 
crowd,  bought  a  drink  for  them  all,  and  was  apparently 
jolly. 

Among  the  number  was  a  gambler  by  the  name  of  Speed. 
He  shook  the  visitor's  hand  heartily,  and  when  the  visit  with 
the  others  was  over,  he  went  to  a  table  and,  sitting  down, 
beckoned  for  Baptiste.  When  the  other  responded,  he 
begged  him  to  be  seated,  and  then  said : 

"  Now,  I  know  what  you  are  down  here  about  —  heard 
about  it  the  day  he  brought  her  home."  Baptiste  regarded 
him  wonderingly.  "  Yes,  I  understand,"  he  said,  making 
himself  comfortable  as  if  to  tell  a  long  story.  "  You  are 
wondering  how  /  come  to  understand  about  your  father- 
in-law,  and  if  you  are  not  in  a  hurry,  I'll  tell  you  a  little 
story." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  let's  have  a  drink  before  you 
start." 

"  I  don't  care,"  and  he  beckoned  to  the  bartender. 

"  Small  bottle,  a  Schlitz,"  he  said,  and  turned  to  Baptiste. 

"  Make  it  two,"  said  the  other,  and  turned  to  hear  the 
story  the  other  had  to  tell. 

"  It  happened  fifteen  years  ago,"  began  Speed  when  their 
beer  had  been  served.  "  I  wa,s  a  preacher  then. —  Hold  on," 
he  broke  off  at  the  expression  on  Baptiste's  face. 

"  Yes,  of  course  you  can  hardly  believe  it ;  but  I  was  then 
a  preacher.  I  was  the  pastor  of  the  church  in  a  little  town, 
and  I  won't  tell  the  name  of  the  town ;  but  it's  all  the  same, 


THE  GAMBLER'S  STORY  301 

I  was  a  preacher  and  pastor  of  this  church.  I  had  not  been 
long  ordained,  and  was  ambitious  to  succeed  as  a  minister. 
The  charge  had  not  been  long  created,  and  was,  of  course, 
not  much  of  a  place  for  money.  But  it  so  happened  that 
a  quarry  was  opened  about  the  time  I  was  sent  there  and  it 
brought  some  hundred  and  fifty  Negro  families  to  live 
in  the  town,  and  in  almost  a  twinkling,  my  charge  became 
from  among  the  poorest,  to  one  of  the  best  from  a  financial 
point  of  view.  The  men  worked  steadily  and  were  paid 
well,  and  their  families  found  quite  a  bit  of  work  to  do 
among  the  wealthy  whites  of  the  town. 

"  There  were  two  young  ladies  living  a  few  doors  from 
where  I  preached,  girls  who  made  their  own  living,  honestly, 
nice,  clean  girls,  and  I  was  much  impressed  with  them.  I 
sought,  and  finally  succeeded  in  getting  them  interested  in 
the  church,  and  later  began  keeping  company  with  one. 
Now  here  is  where  your  folks  come  in.  The  Reverend  Mc- 
Carthy—  old  Mac,  I  called  him,  was  filling  the  same  line 
he  now  is,  Presiding  Elder,  and  this  church  was  in  his 
itinerary.  I  was  therefore  under  his  recommendation.  He 
had  been  visiting  the  church  regularly,  holding  his  quarterly 
conference  every  three  months,  and  getting  his  little  bit. 
It  was  shortly  after  I  had  started  going  with  this  young 
lady  that  McCarthy  got  awful  nice  and  treated  me  so  good 
until  I  became  suspicious.  Then  one  day  it  came  out. 

"  '  By  the  way,  Speed/  he  said.  '  Who're  those  girls  liv- 
ing near  the  church  ? '  I  knew  who  he  was  referring  to 
because  I  had  seen  him  trying  to  smile  on  them  the  day  be- 
fore which  had  been  a  Sunday.  But  I  pretends  I  don't 
know  what  or  who  he's  talking  about. 

"  *  Who  ?  '  I  inquired  as  innocent  as  a  lamb. 

" '  Oh,  those  two  girls  living  near  the  church/  and  he 
called  their  names.  ' 


302  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"'Why,  they  are  two  young  ladies  who  came  here  not 
long  ago,'  I  said,  and  waited. 

"  '  Is  that  all? '  he  asked  then,  and  I  looked  at  him.  He 
grinned,  and  said: 

"  '  Aw,  come  on,  Speed !  Be  a  good  fellow.  Now,  are 
those  girls  straight  ? '  and  he  specified  the  one  I  had  begun 
going  with. 

" '  Why/  said  I,  '  Reverend  McCarthy,  I  am  surprised  at 
you  to  ask  such  a  question,  or  to  offer  such  an  insinuation. 
Besides/  I  went  on,  '  Why?' 

" '  Aw,  now,  Speed/  he  laughed  easily,  his  big  fat  round 
face  shaking.  '  Be  a  good  sport  and  put  me  onto  these 
girls.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do/  he  said, 
drawing  his  chair  close  to  mine.  *  I  '11  make  it  my  business 
to  get  back  over  here  next  Sunday  night,  and  I  want  you  to 
"fix"  it  for  me  with  that  one,  and — '  he  winked  in  a  way 
I  did  not  at  the  time  understand  —  but  I  did  later  — '  I'll 
make  it  right  with  you.  You  understand/  he  said,  rising, 
' I'll  make  it  right  with  you' 

"  I  was  never  so  put  out  in  my  life.  Here  was  this  man, 
a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and  a  Presiding  Elder,  who  had 
just  deliberately  delegated  me  to  make  a  previous  engage- 
ment for  him  without  regard  to  morals  —  and  with  the  girl 
I  loved.  I  don't  think  he  knew  I  was  paying  her  court,  but 
the  moral  was  the  same. 

"  I  was  outdone !  But  true  to  his  words,  the  next  Sunday 
night  he  was  back! 

" '  Well,  Speed/  he  said  when  the  services  were  over. 
*  What's  the  rip  ?  Everything  O.  K.  ? '  He  was  very  anx- 
ious, and  I'll  never  forget  his  face.  But,  I  was  afraid  of  the 
old  rascal,  still  I  hadn't  lost  my  manhood  at  that.  So  I 
says: 

! '  Now,  Reverend,  you  place  me  in  a  very  awkward  pre- 


THE  GAMBLER'S  STORY  303 

dicament.  To  begin  with,  I  have  the  highest  respect  for 
those  young  ladies.  And,  again,  even  if  I  did  not,  I  could 
not  be  expected  to  cohort  as  you  suggested/ 

"  l  Aw,  Speed/  he  cut  in.  *  You're  no  good.  Pshaw !  I 
just  know  the  older  of  those  two  girls  is  not  straight  —  am 
positive  of  it.  And  you  could  '  fix  things  if  you  would,' 
and  I  detected  a  touch  of  angry  disappointment  in  his  tone. 

"  Well,  to  get  out  of  it,  I  told  the  old  rascal  what  I  thought 
of  his  suggestion  and  left  him.  I  never  saw  him  again  until 
near  conference,  and  then  not  to  speak  with  him.  I  was 
confident  that  I  had  satisfied  the  people,  and  that  I  would 
be  sent  back  without  any  argument. 

"  So  imagine  when  I  went  to  conference  and  when  the 
charges  were  being  read  off  and  I  heard  the  Secretary  call 
'  Reverend  Speed  to  Mitchfield ! '  instead  of  the  town  from 
which  I  had  gone. 

"I  was  just  sick,  man;  so  sick  until  I  almost  dropped 
dead  on  the  floor!  Oh,  the  agony  it  gave  me!  I  finally 
got  outside  some  way,  and  stood  leaning  against  the  church. 
How  long  I  stood  thus,  I  never  knew;  but  the  church  let 
out  by  and  by,  while  I  still  stood  there  —  and  let  me  ex- 
plain. Mitchfield  was  a  charge  that  contained  exactly  a 
dozen  members — the  Reverend  McCarthy  came  out  and  I 
looked  up  straight  into  his  eyes.  ...  I  knew  then  why  I 
had  been  sent  to  Mitchfield  instead  of  back  to  the  charge  I 
had  been  at. 

"  Well,  I  went  to  Mitchfield,  and  by  working  around 
town  by  the  day,  in  connection  with  the  charge,  I  managed 
to  make  it.  Some  months  later,  I  married  the  girl  I  have 
spoken  of,  and  we  began  to  keep  house  in  Mitchfield. 

"  It  was  pretty  hard,  and  sometimes  I  don't  wonder  at 
what  later  happened.  But  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I 
was  compelled  to  get  work  in  a  near-by  town  to  make  a 


304  THE  HOMESTEADER 

i 

living  for  me  and  my  wife,  and  was  gone  all  the  week  until 
Saturday  night.  At  the  end  of  six  months,  Reverend  Mc- 
Carthy had  taken  my  wife,  and  she  had  left  me  and  was 
living  in  St.  Louis !  " 

Baptiste  was  regarding  him  strangely. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  the  rest  of  it  ? "  the  other  paused 
to  ask.  "  Well,  Reverend  McCarthy  became  the  father  of 
her  two  sons.  One  was  killed  some  years  ago,  the  other 
lives  in  St.  Louis." 

"  But  what  —  what  became  of  their  mother  ?  "  Baptiste 
inquired  curiously. 

"  Her?  What  becomes  of  women  who  are  deceived?  If 
you  visited  St.  Louis  and  the  district,  you  might  find  her. 
She  was  there  the  last  I  heard  of  her." 

"And  you?" 

"  Me  ?  "  the  other  repeated  in  a  strangely  hollow  voice. 
"  You  know  what  /  am.  A  gambler,  and  with  an  old  score 
to  settle  with  that  man  if  I  ever  get  the  chance." 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  PREACHER'S  EVIL  INFLUENCE 

WITH  all  Ethel's  excited  ways,  she  was  not  to  be 
reckoned  a  fool  when  she  had  in  mind  to  ac- 
complish some  purpose.  She  understood  full 
well,  that  it  would  be  up  to  her  at  this  time  to  keep  Orlean 
from  returning  West  with  her  husband,  unless  she  recalled 
her  father.  This  she  did  not  wish  to  resort  to,  until  she 
had  exhausted  all  her  force  without  avail.  She  appreciated 
the  fact  that  Jean  Baptiste  could  and  would  influence  her 
husband  as  well  as  her  mother,  while  as  to  Orlean,  she 
would  only  need  a  half  a  chance  to  fall  away  from  her  in- 
fluence and  go  back  to  her  husband. 

So  with  this  in  mind,  Ethel,  who  had  inherited  from  her 
father,  much  evil  and  the  faculty  of  making  people  miser- 
able began,  as  soon  as  Baptiste  had  left  the  house,  to  for- 
mulate plans  to  counter  any  effort  on  his  part  to  see  Orlean. 

Her  first  move,  therefore,  was  to  recall  Orlean  who  was 
visiting  near,  a  fact  which  her  mother  had  feared  to  tell 
Baptiste.  She  convinced  her  forthwith  that  she  was  sick, 
in  danger,  and  sent  her  to  bed,  not  telling  her  that  Baptiste 
was  even  in  town.  She  followed  this  by  sending  her  mother 
to  the  kitchen,  and  keeping  her  there. 

"  Now  what  I  must  do  —  succeed  in  doing,"  she  muttered 
to  herself,  "  is  to  keep  Orlean  from  seeing  or  meeting  him 
in  private  and  even  in  public  for  as  much  as  an  hour."  She 
realized  that  keeping  a  man  and  wife  apart  was  a  grave  task, 
and  that  she  could  not  trust  to  the  sympathy  of  any  friends. 

305 


306  THE  HOMESTEADER 

But  one  person  could  she  trust  to  be  an  ally  in  the  task  she 
was  trying  to  accomplish,  and  that  was  her  father.  She 
rather  feared  her  husband  at  this  time,  for,  while  she  held 
him  under  her  control  at  most  all  times,  he  was  by  dispo- 
sition inclined  to  be  kind  and  good.  And,  although  he  was 
jealous  of  Baptiste  in  a  measure,  this  did  not  reach  pro- 
portions where  he  was  likely  to  be  a  very  ready  accomplice 
with  the  plan  in  hand.  Indeed,  if  it  was  left  to  him,  Orlean 
would  sleep  in  her  husband's  arms  that  very  night ! 

"  I  wish  papa  had  stayed  just  another  day,"  she  grumbled 
as  she  walked  the  floor  and  tried  to  formulate  some  effec- 
tive plan  of  action.  "  To  think  that  he  left  only  this  morn- 
ing and  that  man  came  this  afternoon !  "  She  was  pro- 
voked at  such  a  coincidence.  She  did  not  like  to  think  too 
deeply,  or  to  scheme  too  long,  for  it  hurt  her.  So  she  was 
compelled  to  take  a  chair  for  a  time  and  rest  her  mind. 
She  was  not  positive  how  long  Baptiste  would  stay,  and  she 
would  have  difficulty  in  keeping  her  sister  in  bed  for  any 
length  of  time.  But  she  decided  to  keep  her  in  the  house 
if  she  had  to  sit  on  guard  at  the  front  door. 

And  it  was  while  she  was  yet  undecided  upon  her  plan 
of  action,  that  Glavis  came  home.  Once  in  a  great  while, 
when  she  wanted  a  change,  a  diversion,  she  would  have 
his  supper  waiting.  Other  times  it  was  left  to  her  mother. 
He  loved  her  in  spite  of  all  her  evil,  and  was  always 
pleased  when  she  had  his  supper  ready.  So  when  she 
heard  his  footsteps  outside,  she  was  suddenly  struck  with 
an  inspiration.  '  She  rushed  toward  the  rear,  and  began 
hurriedly  to  set  the  table.  Her  mother  had  the  meal  ready, 
so  she  affected  to  be  very  cheerful  when  Glavis  came  into 
the  room,  and  even  kissed  him  fondly.  He  was  so  surprised, 
that  the  instance  made  him  temporarily  forget  what  was  on 
his  mind,  which  was  just  what  she  wished  him  to  do. 


THE  PREACHER'S  EVIL  INFLUENCE      307 

"  Where  is  Orlean  ?  "  he  inquired  after  a  time,  where- 
upon his  wife's  face  darkened. 

"Oh,  she's  sick,  and  in, bed,"  replied  Ethel  guardedly. 

Glavis  grunted.  He  was  thinking.  For  a  time  he  for- 
got all  that  was  around  him;  his  wife,  the  supper,  his 
work,  all  but  Jean  Baptiste  and  the  wife  that  was  being 
harbored  under  the  roof  that  he  kept  up.  He  suddenly  got 
up.  He  walked  quickly  out  of  the  room  and  hurried  up- 
stairs while  his  wife's  back  was  turned,  and  knocked  at  the 
door  of  the  room  wherein  Orlean  was  supposed  to  lay 
sick. 

"  Come  in,"  called  the  other. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Glavis,"  she  cried,  dropping  back  into  bed 
when  he  entered  the  door. 

"A — ah  —  Orlean,"  he  said  in  his  stammering  sort  of 
way.  "A  —  ah  —  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  feel  well,  Glavis,"  she  replied  wonderingly.  She 
had  never  felt  just  right  mentally  since  before  she  left  the 
West.  And  when  she  allowed  herself  to  think,  she  found 
that  it  hurt  her.  She  had  always  been  obedient  —  her 
father  had  told  her  that  time  and  again,  and  gave  her  great 
credit  for  being  so.  "  Think  of  it,  my  dear,"  he  had  so 
often  said,  "  in  all  your  life  you  have  never  '  sassed '  your 
father,  or  contraried  him,"  whereupon  he  would  look 
greatly  relieved.  So  her  father  had  laid  down  the  rule  she 
was  following  —  trying  to  follow.  Her  husband  must  cer- 
tainly have  been  in  grave  error  —  not  that  she  had  observed 
it,  or  that  she  had  been  badly  treated  by  him,  for  she  had 
not.  However,  whenever  she  tried  to  see  and  understand 
what  it  all  meant,  it  hurt  her.  She  was  again  the  victim  of 
those  nervous  little  spells  that  had  harassed  her  before  she 
married,  but  which  had  strangely  left  her  during  that  time. 
But  to  do  her  father's  will  —  for  he  never  bid  —  always  his 


3o8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

was  an  influence  that  seemed  to  need  no  words  —  she  was 
trying.  So  she  looked  up  at  Glavis,  and  observed  something 
unusual  in  his  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Glavis  ?  "  she  inquired,  sitting  up  in 
bed  again.  Glavis  shifted  about  uneasily  before  replying. 

"  Ah  —  why  —  Orlean,  it's  Baptiste,  your  husband." 

"Jean!"  she  cried,  forgetting  everything  but  her  .hus- 
band —  forgetting  that  she  had  allowed  herself  to  be  parted 
from  him.  "  What  —  what  is  the  matter  with  him,  Glavis  ? 
With  Jean  ?  Has  something  happened  ?  Oh,  I'm  always  so 
afraid  something  will  happen  to  Jean !  " 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  Glavis,  pushing  her  gently  back  upon 
the  pillow.  "  Nothing  has  happened.  Ah  —  er  —  ah  — " 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  relieved,"  she  sighed,  as  she  fell  over  in  the 
bed. 

"  He's  here  — •  in  the  city,"  she  heard  then  from  Glavis. 

"  He  is !  "  she  cried,  sitting  suddenly  erect  again.  For  a 
moment  she  hesitated,  and  then,  raising  her  hand  to  her 
forehead  as  if  in  great  pain,  she  groaned  perceptibly.  The 
next  moment  she  had  again  sunk  back  upon  the  pillow,  and 
her  breath  came  hard.  Perspiration  stood  upon  her  brow, 
and  he  saw  it. 

"  Orlean,  oh,  Orlean,"  he  cried  then  upon  impulse. 
"  Great  God,  this  is  a  shame,  a  shame  before  God ! "  he 
lamented  with  great  emotion. 

Suddenly  he  rushed  to  the  door  and  then  halted  as  he 
heard  his  wife  calling  him  from  below.  He  turned  to  where 
Orlean  lay  in  the  bed,  sick  now  for  true. 

"  Aren't  you  coming  down  to  supper,  Orlean  ?  "  he  called. 

"  No,  Glavis.     I  am  not  hungry." 

"  But  you  should  eat  something,  Orlean." 

"  No,  Glavis,"  she  repeated  in  a  tired  voice,  a  voice  in 
which  he  detected  a  sigh.  "  I  couldn't  eat  anything  —  now." 


THE  PREACHER'S  EVIL  INFLUENCE 


309 


He  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  great  tenderness,  let  escape 
a  sigh,  and  then  as  if  resigned  to  the  inevitable,  he  turned 
and  passed  down  the  stairway  to  where  his  wife  waited 
below. 

She  regarded  him  keenly,  and  during  the  meal,  she  kept 
casting  furtive  glances  in  his  direction.  "  I  wonder  what 
he's  been  saying  to  Orlean?"  she  kept  muttering  to  her- 
self. She  concluded  then,  that  she  would  have  to  watch 
him  closely.  He  had  never  been  in  accord  with  her  and 
her  father's  plan,  and  they  had  borne  false  witness  to  in- 
fluence him  against  Baptiste.  But  he  had  seen  Baptiste  she 
knew,  and  was  also  aware  of  the  fact  that  Glavis  liked  both 
her  sister  and  brother-in-law,  and  it  was  going  to  be  a 
task  to  keep  him  from  following  his  natural  inclination. 

She  thought  about  her  father  again,  and  wished  that  he 
was  in  Chicago". 

She  had  never  been  delegated  to  handle  such  a  task  alone, 
and  she  disliked  the  immense  responsibility  that  was  now 
upon  her,  and  no  one  to  stand  with  her  in  the  conflict. 

"  Well,  Ethel,"  Glavis  said,  arising  from  the  table  when 
the  meal  was  over,  "  I'm  going  to  walk  out  for  a  while." 

She  started  up  quickly.  Her  lips  parted  to  say  that  he 
was  going  to  meet  Baptiste  and  conspire  with  him  against 
her  father,  but  she  realized  that  this  would  not  be  expedient. 
He  might  revolt.  She  rather  feared  this  at  times,  notwith- 
standing her  influence  over  him,  therefore  she  decided  to  ex- 
ercise a  little  diplomacy.  Accordingly  she  sank  back  into 
the  chair,  and  replied: 

"  Very  well,  dear." 

He  regarded  her  keenly,  but  she  appeared  to  be  inno- 
cently completing  her  meal.  He  sighed  to  think  that  she 
did  not  make  herself  disagreeable,  the  anticipation  of  which 
had  made  him  fear  and  dread  the  task  that  was  before  him. 


3io 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


But  now  he  was  compelled  to  feel  a  little  grateful  because 
she  was  apparently  very  prudent  in  the  matter. 

He  hurried  quickly  to  the  hall  tree,  slipped  into  a  light 
overcoat,  and  left  the  house.  As  he  walked  down  the 
street,  he  was  in  deep  thought. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MORE  OF   THE   PREACHER'S   WORK 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  was  thoughtful  for  a  long  time 
after  the  other  had  left  him.  He  had  heard  before  he 
married  Orlean  that  the  Reverend  was  the  father  of 
two  illegitimate  children,  but  from  Speed's  story  he  had 
met  the  whole  of  it.  Not  only  was  he  the  father  of  two 
illegitimate  children,  but  he  had  taken  another  man's  wife 
to  become  so  —  and  all  this  while  he  was  one  of  the  most 
influential  men  in  the  church ! 

This  fact,  however,  did  not  cause  Baptiste  any  wonder- 
ment. It  was  something  he  had  become  accustomed  to.  It 
seemed  that  the  church  contained  so  many  of  the  same  kind 
—  from  reports, —  until  it  was  a  common  expectation  that  a 
preacher  was  permitted  to  do  the  very  worst  things  —  things 
that  nobody  else  would  have  the  conscience  to  do.  He  arose 
presently  and  going  to  the  bar,  ordered  another  bottle  of 
beer.  He  looked  around  the  large  room  while  he  drank 
at  the  usual  class  who  frequented  the  place.  He  knew  that 
here  and  there  among  them  were  crooks,  thieves,  "  con  " 
men,  gunmen,  and  gamblers.  Many  of  these  men  had  per- 
haps even  committed  murder  —  and  that  for  money.  Yet 
there  was  not  one  he  was  positive,  that  would  deliberately 
separate  a  man  and  his  wife  for  spite.  And  that  was  the 
crime  this  preacher  father-in-law  of  his  had  committed. 

Always  in  the  mind  of  this  man  of  the  prairie  this  played. 
It  followed  him  everywhere;  it  slept  with  him,  arose  with 
him, 'and  retired  with  him.  And  all  through  long  sleep- 


3i2  THE  HOMESTEADER 

less  nights  it  flitted  about  in  his  dreams  like  an  eternal 
spectre,  it  gave  him  no  peace.  Gradually  it  had  brought 
him  to  a  feeling  that  the  only  justifiable  action  would  be 
to  follow  the  beast  to  his  lair  and  kill  him  upon  sight. 
Often  this  occurred  to  him,  and  at  such  times  he  allowed 
his  mind  to  recall  murder  cases  of  various  phases,  and  won- 
dered if  such  a  feeling  as  he  was  experiencing,  was  the  kind 
men  had  before  committing  murder.  Then  if  so,  what  a 
relief  it  must  be  to  the  mind  to  kill.  He  had  a  vision  of 
this  arch  hypocrite  writhing  at  his  feet,  with  death  in  his 
sinful  eyes,  and  his  tongue  protruding  from  his  mouth. 

He  drank  the  beer  and  then  ordered  liquor.  Somehow 
he  wanted  to  still  that  mania  that  was  growing  within  him. 
He  had  struggled  for  happiness  in  the  world,  for  success 
and  contentment,  and  he  did  not  wish  his  mind  to  dwell  on 
the  subject  of  murder.  But  he  was  glad  that  this  man  had 
left  the  city.  A  man  might  be  able  to  accept  a  great  deal 
of  rebuke,  and  endure  much;  but  sometimes  the  sight  of 
one  who  has  wronged  him  might  cause  him  for  a  moment 
to  forget  all  his  good  intentions  and  manly  resolutions. 
Yes,  he  was  glad  that  Reverend  McCarthy  had  left  the  city, 
and  he  shuddered  a  little  when  he  recalled  with  a  grimace 
that  he  had  traveled  these  many  miles  to  see  and  reckon  with 
his  wife. 

"  Well,  you  are  here,"  he  heard  then,  and  turned  to  greet 
Glavis. 

"  Oh,  hello,  Glavis,"  he  returned  with  a  tired  expression 
about  his  eyes  from  the  effect  of  the  strain  under  which  he 
had  been  laboring.  "  Have  a  drink." 

"  An  old-time  cocktail,"  Glavis  said  to  the  bartender.  He 
then  turned  to  Baptiste. 

"  Well,  how's  everything  over  home  ? "  said  Baptiste, 
coming  directly  to  the  point. 


MORE  OF  THE  PREACHER'S  WORK       313 

"  Your  wife's  sick,"  said  Glavis  a  little  awkwardly. 

"  And  I,  her  husband,  cannot  call  and  see  her.  I'm  com- 
pelled to  hear  it  from  others  and  say  nothing."  He  paused 
and  the  expression  on  his  face  was  unpleasant  to  behold. 
Glavis  saw  it  and  looked  away.  He  could  not  make  any  an- 
swer, and  then  he  heard  the  other  again. 

"  This  is  certainly  the  limit.  I  married  that  girl  in  good 
faith,  and  I'll  bet  that  she  has  not  told  you  or  anybody  else 
that  I  mistreated  her.  But  here  we  are,  compelled  to  be 
apart,  and  by  whom  ?  "  His  face  was  still  unpleasant,  and 
Glavis  only  mumbled. 

"  That  damn  preacher !  " 

"  Oh,  Baptiste,"  cried  Glavis,  f rowningly. 

"  Yes,  I  know  —  I  understand  your  situation,  Glavis. 
But  you  must  appreciate  what  it  is  to  be  thrown  into  a  mess 
like  this.  To  have  your  home  and  happiness  sacrificed  to 
somebody's  vanity.  I'm  compelled  to  stand  for  all  this  for 
the  simple  crime  of  not  lauding  the  old  man.  All  because 
I  didn't  tickle  his  vanity  and  become  the  hypocrite  he  is, 
for  should  I  have  said  what  he  wanted  me  to  say,  then  I 
would  have  surely  lied.  And  I  hate  a  liar !  " 

"  But  come,  Baptiste,"  argued  Glavis,  "  we  want  to  figure 
out  some  way  that  you  and  your  wife  can  get  together 
without  all  this.  Now  let's  have  another  drink  and  sit 
down." 

"Well,  alright,"  said  the  other  disconsolately,  "I  feel 
as  if  it  would  do  me  good  to  get  drunk  tonight  and  kill  some- 
body, —no,  no,  Glavis,"  he  added  quickly,  "  I'm  not  going 
to  kill  anybody.  So  you  needn't  think  I  am  planning  any- 
thing like  that.  I'm  too  busy  to  go  to  jail." 

"  Now,  I'm  willing  to  help  you  in  any  way  I  can,  Bap- 
tiste," began  Glavis,  "  as  long  as  I  can  keep  my  wife  out  of  it. 
I've  got  the  darndest  woman  you  ever  saw.  But  she's  my 


3i4  THE  HOMESTEADER 

wife,  and  you  know  a  man  must  try  to  live. with  the  one  he's 
married  to,  and  that's  why  I  am  willing  to  help  you." 

They  discussed  plans  at  some  length,  and  finally  de- 
cided to  settle  matters  on  the  morrow. 

But  when  the  morrow  came,  Ethel  blocked  all  the  plans. 
She  refused  to  be  sent  away  across  town  and  let  Baptiste 
come  into  the  house  and  see  his  wife.  She  knew  what  that 
would  mean,  so  she  stood  intrenched  like  the  rock  of  Gib- 
raltar. Other  plans  were  resorted  to,  but  with  the  same 
result.  The  days  passed  and  Baptiste  became  obsessed  with 
worry.  He  knew  he  should  be  back  in  the  West  and  to  his 
work;  he  began  to  lose  patience  with  his  wife  for  being  so 
weak.  If  he  could  only  see  her  he  was  certain  that  they 
would  come  to  some  agreement.  Sunday  came  and  went, 
and  still  he  saw  her  not.  Ethel  took  confidence ;  she  smiled 
at  the  success  with  which  she  had  blocked  all  efforts  of  com- 
munication. Baptiste  wrote  his  wife  notes,  but  these  she 
intercepted  and  learned  his  plans.  She  convinced  her  sister 
that  she  was  sick  and  should  be  under  the  care  of  a  physi- 
cian. This  reached  Baptiste,  and  he  secured  one,  a  brilliant 
young  man  who  was  making  a  reputation.  He  had  known 
him  while  the  other  was  attending  the  Northwestern  Medi- 
cal College,  and  admired  him;  but  this  too  was  blocked. 
For  when  he  knocked  at  the  door  with  the  doctor  at  his 
side,  they  were  forbade  admittance.  Thereupon  Baptiste 
was  embarrassed  and  greatly  humiliated  at  the  same  time. 

Ethel  had  a  good  laugh  over  it  when  they  had  left  and 
cried :  "  He  had  his  nerve,  anyhow.  Walking  up  here  with 
a  nigger  doctor,  the  idea!  I  wish  papa  had  been  home, 
he'd  have  fixed  him  proper!  Papa  has  never  had  one  of 
those  in  his  house,  indeed  not.  No  nigger  doctor  has  ever 
attended  any  of  us,  and  never  will  as  long  as  papa  has  any- 
thing to  do  with  it !  " 


MORE  OF  THE  PREACHER'S  WORK       315 

Glavis  finally  succeeded  in  getting  a  hearing.  By  plead- 
ing and  begging,  he  finally  secured  Ethel's  consent  to  allow 
him  to  bring  Baptiste  to  the  house  and  sit  near  his  wife  for 
just  thirty  minutes  —  but  no  more.  He  did  not  apprise 
Baptiste  of  this  fact  nor  of  the  time  limit,  but  caught  him 
by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  the  house  as  though  he  were  a 
privileged  character.  He  took  notice  of  the  clock  when  he 
entered,  because  he  knew  that  Ethel,  who  was  upstairs  had 
done  so.  And  he  was  very  careful  during  the  time  to  keep 
his  eyes  upon  the  clock.  He  knew  that  Ethel  would  appear 
at  the  expiration  of  thirty  minutes  and  start  her  disagree- 
ableness,  so  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  quietly  led  Baptiste 
away  after  he  had  been  allowed  only  to  look  at  his  wife,  who 
was  like  a  Sphinx  from  the  careful  dressing  down  she  had 
had  before  and  preparatory  to  his  coming. 

So,  having  carried  out  what  he  considered  a  bit  of  di- 
plomacy, Glavis  was  relieved.  Baptiste  could  expect  no 
more  of  him,  and  so  it  ended. 

Ethel  wrote  her  father  a  cheerful  letter  and  stated  that 
that  "  hardheaded  rascal "  had  been  there  from  the  West ; 
but  that  Orlean  had  declined  to  see  him  but  once,  and  had 
refused  to  go  back  at  all,  whereupon  her  father  smiled  satis- 
factorily. 

Jean  Baptiste  returned  to  the  West,  defeated  and  down- 
cast. He  had  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  failed  in  an  un- 
dertaking. He  had  never  known  such  before,  he  could  not 
understand.  But  he  was  defeated,  that  was  sure.  Per- 
haps it  was  because  he  was  not  trained  to  engage  in  that 
particular  kind  of  combat.  He  had  been  accustomed  to 
dealing  with  men  in  the  open,  and  was  not  prepared  to 
counter  the  cunning  and  finesse  of  his  newly  acquired  ad- 
versaries. 

Over  him  it  cast  a  gloom ;  it  cast  great,  dark  shadows,  and 


3i6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

in  the  days  that  followed  the  real  Jean  Baptiste  died  and 
another  came  to  live  in  his  place.  And  that  one  was  a 
hollow-cheeked,  unhappy,  nervous,  apprehensive  creature. 
He  regarded  life  and  all  that  went  with  it  dubiously;  he 
looked  into  the  elements  above  him,  and  said  that  the 
world  had  reached  a  time  whence  it  would  change.  The  air 
would  change,  the  earth  would  become  hot,  and  rain  would 
not  fall  and  that  drought  would  cover  all  the  land,  and  the 
settlers  would  suffer.  And  so  feeling,  it  did  so  become,  and 
in  the  following  chapter  our  story  will  deal  with  the  ele- 
ments, and  with  how  the  world  did  change,  and  how  drought 
came,  and  what  followed. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  GREAT  ASTRONOMER 

NOT  LONG  AGO  a  man  died  who  had  made  astron- 
omy a  specific  study  for  sixty  years.  He  knew  the 
planets,  Mars  and  Jupiter,  and  Saturn  and  all  the 
others.  He  knew  the  constellations  and  the  zodiac  —  in 
fact  he  was  familiar  with  the  solar  system  and  all  the  work- 
ings of  the  universe.  This  man  had  predicted  with  con- 
siderable accuracy  what  seasons  would  be  wet,  and  what 
seasons  would  be  dry.  He  also  foretold  the  seasons  of 
warmth  and  those  of  cold.  And  he  had  said  that  about 
every  twenty  years,  the  world  over  would  be  gripped  with 
drought.  This  drought  would  begin  in  the  far  north,  and* 
would  cover  the  extreme  northern  portion  of  the  country 
the  first  year.  The  second  year  it  would  reach  further 
south,  and  extend  over  the  great  central  valleys  and  be  most 
severe  near  the  northern  tier  of  states.  Following,  it  would 
go  a  bit  further  south  the  next  year,  and  so  on  until  it  would 
finally  disappear  altogether. 

So  according  to  this  man's  prediction,  the  country  of  our 
sfory  would  experience  a  severe  drought  soon,  preceded  by 
a  slight  one  as  a  forerunner.  For  two  years  the  crops  would 
be  inferior  but  the  following  year  would  see  it  normal  again. 

So  be  it. 

It  had  been  dry  the  year  before,  and  had  been  just  a  little 
bit  so  the  year  before  that.  We  know  by  the  shortage  of 
crops  Jean  Baptiste  had  raised  that  such  had  been  so.  So, 
with  hundreds  of  acres,  and  the  sun  shining  hot,  and  the 


318  THE  HOMESTEADER 

wind  blowing  from  the  south,  it  was  no  surprise  when  he 
became  now,  an  altogether  different  person.  (For  you  see 
the  life  —  that  life  that  makes  men  strong  and  fearless  and 
cheerful  had  gone  from  the  body  of  Jean  Baptiste.)  Then 
he  began  to  grow  uneasy.  It  is,  perhaps,  somewhat  difficult 
to  portray  a  drought  and  its  subsequent  disasters.  We  beg 
of  you,  however,  that  you  go  back  to  the  early  years  in  the 
peaceful,  hopeful,  vigorous  country  of  our  story:  In  the 
years  that  had  been  before  when  everything  had  pointed  to 
success.  Rainfall  had  been  abundant;  frost  had  waited  until 
October  before  it  showed  his  white  coat  upon  the  window 
sill.  Land  values  had  climbed  and  climbed,  and  had  gone 
so  high  until  only  the  moneyed  could  even  reckon  to  own 
land.  And  Jean  Baptiste  controlled  a  thousand  acres. 

Over  all  the  country,  the  pounding  of  steam  and  gasoline 
tractors  rilled  the  air  with  an  incessant  drumming;  the 
black  streaks  everywhere  told  the  story  of  conquest.  The 
prairie  was  giving  place  to  the  inevitable  settler,  and  hope 
was  high  in  the  hearts  of  all.  So  the  wind  had  blown  hot 
many  days  before  the  settlers  became  apprehensive  of  any- 
thing really  serious. 

Never  since  they  had  come  to  this  country  had  they  ex- 
perienced such  intense  heat;  such  regular  heat;  such  con- 
tinued heat.  A  week  passed  and  the  heat  continued.  It 
blew  a  gale,  and  then  a  blast;  but  always  it  was  hot,  hot, 
hot! 

Two  weeks  passed,  and  still  it  blew.  Before  this  it  had 
at  least  subsided  at  night,  although  it  did  begin  afresh  in  the 
morning.  But  now  it  blew  all  night  and  all  day,  and  each 
day  it  became  hotter,  the  soil  became  dryer,  and  presently 
the  crops  began  to  fire. 

"  Oh,  for  a  rain !  "  every  settler  cried.  "  For  a  rain,  a 
rain,  a  rain  !  "  But  no  rain  came. 


A  GREAT  ASTRONOMER  319 

So  every  day  there  was  the  continual  firing  of  the  crops. 

The  corn  had  been  too  small  in  the  beginning  to  require 
much  moisture,  and  the  dry  weather  had  enabled  the  farmer 
to  kill  the  weeds,  so  it  stood  the  gaft  quite  well,  for  a  time, 
and  grew  like  gourd  vines  in  the  meantime.  It  was  the 
wheat,  the  oats,  the  rye  and  the  barley  that  were  first  to 
suffer.  These  were  at  their  most  critical  stage,  the  time 
when  tiny  little  heads  must  dare  seek  the  light.  And  as 
they  did  so,  the  cruel  heat  met  and  burned  them  until  there- 
upon they  cried  and  died  from  grief.  And  still  the  drought 
continued. 

No  showers  fell.  The  crops  needed  water.  After  the 
third  week  of  such  intense  heat,  the  people  groaned  and 
said  "  '93 "  had  returned  with  all  its  attendant  disaster. 
And  still  the  wind  kept  blowing.  The  air  grew  hot,  hotter ; 
almost  to  stifling  with  the  odor  of  the  burning  plants.  The 
aroma  mixed  with  the  intense  heat  was  suffocating.  The 
grass  upon  the  prairie  gave  up,  turned  its  tiny  blades  to 
the  sun  and  died  to  the  roots,  while  all  the  grain  of  the  land, 
slowly  became  shorter.  It  struggled,  it  bent,  and  at  last 
turned  what  had  pointed  upward,  downward,  and  also  died 
of  thirst. 

And  then  the  people  awakened  to  the  emergency.  They 
began  to  take  note  of  the  fact  that  many  had  gone  into 
debt  so  deeply  until  there  were  many  who  could  never  get 
out  unless  they  sold  their  land !  This  had  been  so  with  poor 
managers,  speculators,  and  others  before.  When  they  found 
that  they  were  unable  to  make  it,  there  had  always  remained 
the  alternative  of  selling  out.  And  this  had  been  so  easy, 
because  the  people  at  large  wanted  the  land.  So  instead, 
heretofore,  of  retiring  in  defeat,  the  weakest  had  retired  in 
apparent  victory.  "  For  my  homestead,  I  received  $8,000," 
or  maybe  it  had  been  $10,000.  So  it  had  been.  Great  prices 


320 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


to  all  who  wanted  to  sell.  Only  a  small  portion  of  them, 
however,  had  wanted  to  sell  up  to  date. 

But  when  the  crops  were  surely  a  failure  for  the  most 
part,  hundreds  and  thousands  and  even  more  quarters  were 
offered  for  sale.  Then  came  the  shock  —  the  jolt  that 
brought  the  people  to  a  stern  realization  of  what  was  before 
them.  The  buyers !  There  were  no  buyers !  No,  the  buy- 
ers now  when  many  wished  to  sell,  stayed  in  Iowa,  and 
Illinois  and  wherever  they  lived,  and  refused  to  come 
hither ! 

So,  for  the  first  time  the  people  in  the  new  country  were 
face  to  face  with  a  real  problem.  And  this  continued  to  be 
augmented  by  the  intense  heat.  Hotter  it  had  grown,  and 
at  last  came  a  day  when  all  the  small  grain  was  beyond  re- 
demption, only  the  corn  and  the  flaxseed  were  yet  a  possi- 
bility. So  to  Jean  Baptiste  we  now  return. 

He  had  written  to  his  wife,  and  she  had  replied  to  his 
letter.  He  read  them  where  he  lived,  on  the  homestead  she 
had  left,  and  longed  simply  for  her  to  return.  He  lived 
with  his  mind  in  a  dull  quandary.  It  was  useless  to  try  to 
find  consolation  hating  the  cause  of  his  troubles,  so  him,  he 
tried  much  to  forget.  It  would  all  come  right  some  day,  he 
still  hoped,  and  worried  between  times  over  his  debts.  He 
had  borrowed  more  money  to  develop  his  land ;  was  behind 
in  the  interest,  now,  and  also  the  taxes,  and  his  wife  wrote 
for  money. 

This  was  what  Glavis  had  advised  him  to  do  —  Send  her 
money  and  all  would  be  right.  Yes,  that  was  what  Ethel 
and  her  mother  and  her  father  had  all  thought  right.  Send 
her  money.  But  the  day  of  plenty  of  money  for  Jean 
Baptiste  was  slipping.  The  burning,  dried  crop  that  lay  in 
the  field,  would  bring  no  money.  But  this  he  dared  not 
write.  If  he  wrote  and  told  the  woman  he  had  married  — 


A  GREAT  ASTRONOMER 


321 


for  a  wife  she  surely  was  no  more  —  that  would  be  to  tell 
the  family.  And  that  Prince  of  Evil,  the  Reverend,  would 
say  with  his  wonted  braggadocio :  "  Um-m.  Didn't  I  tell  you 
right!  That  is  a  wild  country  out  there  for  wild  people, 
only."  So  Baptiste  kept  what  was  ruining  the  crops  to  him- 
self. 

He  sent  her  five  dollars,  and  this  brought  the  most  pleas- 
ant letter  he  had  yet  received.  It  also  brought  one  from 
Glavis,  who  followed  the  same  with  another,  which  was 
more  to  the  point.  It  was  this  he  wrote : 


"  CHICAGO,  ILL.,  June,  3Oth,  191 — 

"Dear  friend  Baptiste: 

"  I  have  your  recent  letter,  and  it  gives  me  a  great  pleas- 
ure to  reply  to  it.  You  would  have  had  my  last  letter 
sooner;  but  I  left  it  to  Ethel  to  mail,  and  this  she  did  not 
do,  so  that  explains  the  delay. 

"  Now  we  are  getting  along  very  well  in  Chicago,  and  hope 
the  same  prevails  in  the  West.  By  the  papers  I  read  where 
considerable  dry  weather  is  prevailing  over  a  part  of  the 
West,  but  hope  it  hasn't  truck  your  part  of  the  country. 
Appreciating,  however,  your  disposition  to  come  directly  to 
a  point,  I  will  now  turn  to  a  subject  that  I  am  sure  will  be 
of  greater  interest  to  you  than  anything  else,  and  which  is 
Orlean,  your  wife. 

"  It  gives  me  a  pleasure  to  state  that  she  appears  more  re- 
lieved of  recent  than  she  has  since  returning  home.  But  I 
will  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  why.  It  is  because  of  you,  and 
you  only.  Always  she  talks  of  you  —  to  me  —  and  it  pleases 
me  to  talk  with  her  concerning  you,  for  it  is  with  you  her 
mind  is  at  all  times.  I  fear  that  you  cannot  appreciate  her 
now  as  you  were  once  inclined  to  do;  but  really  think  you 
would  be  justified,  fully  so,  if  you  did. 

"  Now,  for  instance,  when  you  sent  the  money  not  long 
ago,  it  gave  her  great  delight.  That  you  haven't  forgotten 
that  she  is  your  wife  and  have  some  regards,  in  spite  of  all, 


322  THE  HOMESTEADER 

meant  to  her  very  much.  She  took  it  and  bought  her  a  pair 
of  shoes,  with  a  part;  the  other  she  spent  to  have  pictures 
made  so  that  she  might  send  you  one.  And  I  speak  truly 
that  to  send  you  one  was  the  sole  object  in  her  having  them 
made. 

"  The  poor  girl  has  suffered  much  —  agonies.  It  is  not 
her  disposition  to  be  as  she  has  somehow  been  compelled  to 
be.  I  can't  quite  explain  it,  but  if  it  was  left  to  Orlean's 
dictates,  things  would  not  be  as  they  are.  Yet,  you  might 
not  appreciate  this,  either.  But  to  make  it  plainer :  Orlean 
has  her  mother's  disposition,  and  that  is  not  to  assert  her 
rights.  Too  bad. 

"  Well,  there  was  a  little  incident  that  touched  me  the 
other  day,  and  which  I  will  tell  you  of.  A  certain  lady  was 
over  and  seeing  her  with  the  new  shoes,  she  asked  who  had 
bought  them.  Poor  Orlean !  It  is  certainly  to  be  regretted 
that  a  girl  of  her  temperament,  and  kind  disposition  must  be 
placed  forever  in  a  false  light.  Frankly  it  worries  me.  I 
trust  you  will  understand  that  the  true  state  of  affairs  has 
not  been  given  to  the  public,  and  here  I  will  draw  a  long 

line  instead  of  saying  what  will  be  best  left  unsaid 

But  Orlean  replied  to  the  lady  in  these  words :  '  My  hus- 
band bought  them  for  me/ 

"  I  wish  you  could  understand  that  it  is  all  one  great  mis- 
take. I  wish  you  knew  the  truth  and  the  suffering  this  poor 
girl  has  been  put  to ;  for  if  you  did  you  would  know  that  she 
is  a  good  girl,  and  loves  the  man  she  has  married  with  all  her 
soul  —  but  Orlean  is  not  like  other  women.  She's  weak 
and  —  oh,  well,  I  must  close  here  because  it  hurts  me  to 
tell  more. 

"  I  will,  however,  in  conclusion  say :  Do  not  despair, 
or  grow  bitter  toward  her.  This  is  a  strange  world,  and 
strange  things  happen  in  it.  Of  but  one  thing  I  can  assure 
you,  and  that  is :  The  right  must  come  and  rule  in  the 
end.  Yes,  nothing  but  right  can  stand,  all  else  passes. 
Therefore,  hoping  that  you  will  be  patient,  and  trust  to  that 
I  speak  of,  believe  me  to  be, 

"  Always  your  friend, 

"  E.  M.  GLAVIS." 


A  GREAT  ASTRONOMER  323 

Now  it  so  happened  that  when  Glavis  had  completed  this 
letter,  he  was  called  to  the  phone,  and  later  into  the  street. 
He  was  gone  a  half  hour  or  more,  and  in  the  meantime, 
Ethel  came  upon  it,  and  read  it.  Her  evil  little  eyes  nar- 
rowd  to  mere  slits  when  she  had  finished.  She  had  noted 
what  had  been  going  on  —  Orlean  and  her  husband  always 
finding  each  other's  company  so  congenial. 

"Well,"  she  muttered  after  a  time.  "  The  time  to 
strike  iron  is  while  it's  hot.  I'll  have  to  get  that  man  of 
mine  straightened  out."  Whereupon  she  went  to  her  room, 
and  here  is  the  letter  she  wrote : 

CHICAGO,  ILL.,  June  3oth,  191 — 
"  The  Reverend  N.  J.  McCarthy,  Cairo,  III 

"  DEAR  FATHER  :  We  received  your  letter  and  were  glad 
to  hear  you  say  that  you  expected  to  come  to  Chicago  soon. 
I  was  just  thinking  awhile  ago,  that  if  you  could  come  soon, 
real  soon,  it  might  be  best.  Certain  matters  need  your  at- 
tention. I  will  not  state  which,  but  I,  you  know,  am  aware 
of  how  you  have  been  slandered  and  vilified  by  a  certain 
person  that  you  know.  Well,  that  person  is  again  finding 
a  way  to  influence  those  who  are  near  to  us.  So  knowing 
how  equal  you  are  to  the  most  arduous  task,  I  take  this 
means  of  communicating  that  which  is  most  expedient. 

"  Hoping  that  your  health  is  the  best,  and  that  we  may 
see  you  real  soon,  believe  me  to  be,  as  ever, 

"  Your  loving  daughter, 

"  ETHEL." 

So  it  happened  that  out  in  the  West  where  the  most 
terrific  and  protracted  drought  the  country  had  ever  ex- 
perienced was  burning  crops  and  hopes  of  the  people  in- 
cluded, Jean  Baptiste  was  made  joyful. 

He  understood  Glavis'  letter ;  he  understood  what  he  had 
said  and  what  he  had  not  said.  He  had  suffered.  He  saw 
disaster  creeping  upon  him  from  the  drought  rent  fields. 


3^4 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


Is  it,  therefore,  but  natural  that  in  his  moments  of  agony 
and  unhappiness,  shattered  hopes  and  mortal  anguish,  that 
he  should  turn  to  the  woman  who  had  been  his  mate.  To 
have  her  to  talk  to ;  her  to  tell  the  truth  to  and  share  what 
little  happiness  there  was  to  be  had  in  life,  he  became  overly 
anxious?  Thereupon  he  wrote  her,  sending  another  check 
for  five  dollars. 

July  5th,  191— 
"My  dear  wife: 

"  I  am  writing  and  sending  you  a  little  more  money,  and 
since  you  must  be  well  by  now,  and  realize  how  much 
I  need  you,  I  am  enclosing  a  signed  but  not  filled-in-amount 
check,  with  the  request  that  you  come  home  right  away. 
You  will  start,  say  the  loth,  that  will  place  you  in  Winner 
on  the  night  of  the  eleventh,  on  Saturday,  where  I  will 
meet  you. 

"  I  will  expect  you,  dear ;  and  please  don't  disappoint  me. 
I  have  not  seen  you  for  three  months  now,  and  that  has 
not  been  my  preference.  The  amount  will  be  sufficient  for 
your  fare,  and  expenses  please,  and  I  will  write  no  more ; 
but  should  anything  happen  that  you  can  not  start  on  that 
date,  then  write  or  wire  me  that  I  may  know. 

"  With  love  to  you,  I  am, 

"As  ever,  you  husband, 

"  JEAN." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

N.   JUSTINE   MC  CARTHY   PREACHES  A   SERMON 

f  |  ^HE  text  of  Reverend  N.  J.  McCarthy's  sermon  to 
be  delivered  on  Mothers'  Day,  was  one  of  the  most 

-*•  inexhaustible.  Most  of  his  sermons  he  did  not  pre- 
pare. But  because  this  was  one  of  the  greatest  days  in 
the  annual  of  the  church,  he  spent  a  half  a  day  in  the 
preparation  thereof.  The  title  he  selected  for  it  suited 
him  fully,  and  he  called  it :  "  The  Claim  of  the  Wicked." 

Into  it  he  put  all  the  emotion  that  was  in  him.  He  drew 
a  picture  in  illustrious  words,  of  the  wicked,  the  vicious 
man,  and  the  weak,  the  undefended  woman,  and  made  many 
in  his  dark  congregation  burst  into  emotional  discordance 
thereby.  He  ridiculed  the  vain;  he  denounced,  scathingly, 
the  hypocrite ;  he  made  scores  in  his  audience  turn  with  per- 
spiration at  the  end  of  their  noses  with  conscious  guilt. 
Oh,  never  before  in  the  years  since  he  had  mounted  to  the 
pulpit  and  begun  what  he  chose  to  call,  "  an  effort  for  the 
salvation  of  souls,"  had  he  preached  such  a  soul  stirring 
sermon. 

"  Live  right,  live  right,  I  say ! "  he  screamed  at  the  top 
of  his  voice.  "  How  many  of  you  are  there  as  you  sit  here 
before  me,  that  have  done  evil  unto  thy  neighbor ;  have  made 
some  one  unhappy;  have  cast  a  soul  into  grief  and  eternal 
anguish?  Think  of  it!  Think  of  what  it  means  before 
God  to  do  evil,  spite;  vent  your  rotten  deceit  upon  others! 
I  stand  before  you  in  God's  glory  to  beseech  you  to  desist; 
to  pray  with  you  to  live  according  to  your  consciences; 

325 


326  THE  HOMESTEADER 

to  dispense  with  that  evil  spirit  that  in  the  end  you  may 
face  your  God  in  peace !  Go  forth  hereafter  in  this  world 
of  sin;  go  to  those  whom  you  have  wronged  and  made 
thereby  to  suffer,  and  ask  forgiveness;  ask  there  and  re- 
pent forthwith !  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  it  is  a  glorious  feeling  to 
know  you  have  lived  right,"  and  he  turned  his  eyes  dra- 
matically heavenward,  and  affected  his  audience  by  the 
aspect.  "  To  feel  that  unto  others  you  have  been  just;  that 
you  have  been  kind ;  that  you  have  not  caused  them  to  suffer, 
but  to  feel  happy!  Think  of  the  thrill,  the  sensation  such 
must  give  you,  and  then  let  your  conscience  be  henceforth 
your  guide  in  all  things !  " 

When  the  services  were  over,  and  he  had  shaken  hands 
with  all  the  sisters,  and  bowed  to  the  brothers,  a  boy,  the 
son  of  the  lady  where  he  stayed,  approached  and  handed 
•him  a  letter.  He  looked  at  it  with  his  spectacles  pinched 
upon  his  nose,  and  then  read  it.  It  was  from  Ethel,  and 
we  know  the  contents. 

"  So,"  he  said  easily  as  he  read  it.  "  The  evil  seeks  to 
influence  my  household  in  subtle  matters,  eh!  Oh,  that 
man  has  the  brain  of  a  Caesar,  but  the  purpose  of  Satan! 
Drat  him,  and  his  infernal  scheming!  Ever  since  the  day 
I  first  knew  him  in  the  country  four  miles  from  this  town, 
he  has  been  wont  to  annoy,  to  aggravate  me  —  and  after 
all  my  daughter,  my  poor  daughter,  and  myself  have  done 
for  him!" 

He  began  preparation  to  go  to  Chicago  at  the  earliest 
convenience.  As  his  work  was  so  urgent,  he  wrote  Ethel 
in  reply  that  same  day : 

€t  My  dear  daughter: 

"  I  am  in  receipt  of  your  letter  and  make  haste  to  reply. 
To  begin  with,  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  what  you  wrote 


MCCARTHY  PREACHES  A  SERMON      327 

in  your  letter.  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  anything  these 
days.  Ever  since  your  mother  committed  the  unpardon- 
able blunder  of  letting  my  poor  child  go  straggling  off  into 
the  West,  that  wild  West,  where  only  the  rough  and  the  un- 
civilized live,  I  have  not  been  surprised  with  what  each 
day  might  bring.  It  is  certainly  to  be  regretted  that  when 
one  has  sacrificed  as  much  as  I  have  to  raise  two  of  the 
nicest  girls  that  ever  saw  the  light  of  day,  a  fortune  hunter 
should  come  along  and  bring  misery  into  a  peaceful  home 
as  that  man  has  done.  God  be  merciful!  But  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  we  will  see  fit  to  adjust  rightly  the  evil  that  we 
are  threatened  with. 

"  I  cannot  come  to  Chicago  until  a  week  from  next  Thurs- 
day or  Friday.  I  am  so  behind  with  God's  work,  caused 
by  the  trip  we  made  to  that  land  of  wilderness  last  spring, 
that  I  am  almost  compelled  to  be  at  Cairo  next  Sunday. 
But  should  anything  transpire  that  will  necessitate  my  pres- 
ence before  that  time,  wire  or  write  me  right  quick  and  I 
will  be  there. 

"  From  yours  in  Christ, 
"  N.  JUSTINE  MCCARTHY." 

In  the  West  Jean  Baptiste  got  ready  for  the  homecoming 
of  his  wife.  The  small  grain  crop  was  gone.  While  the 
drought  was  now  burning  the  corn  to  bits,  his  large  crop 
of  flax,  which  had  been  the  most  hopeful  possible  a  few 
days  before,  was  showing  the  effect  of  the  drought  now  as 
well. 

But  with  Jean  Baptiste,  he  could  almost  forego  anything 
and  be  happy  with  the  prospects.  In  his  mind  this  became 
so  much  so,  until  he  looked  forward  to  the  day  he  had  set 
for  her  coming  as  if  all  the  world  must  become  righted 
when  she  was  once  again  near  him. 

Now  during  these  months  he  had  only  his  grandmother 
for  company,  and  her  he  wanted  to  send  home.  But  she 
would  not  leave  him,  always  willing  to  wait  until  Orlean 


328  THE  HOMESTEADER 

came  back.  During  these  long  lonesome  days  he  found  a 
strange  solace  in  talking  to  his  horses.  There,  for  in- 
stance, was  John  and  Humpy,  the  mules  that  Orlean  had 
driven  her  father  out  to  their  home  with  when  he  had  come 
on  his  first  visit.  He  told  them  that  she  was  coming  back 
now,  and  to  him  they  appeared  to  answer.  They  had  be- 
come round  and  plump  since  work  had  closed,  and  hav- 
ing fully  shed  their  winter's  hair,  and  not  yet  become  sun- 
burned their  dapple  gray  coating  made  them  very  attractive. 

He  rearranged  the  house,  bought  a  few  pieces  of  much 
needed  furniture,  and  made  elaborate  preparations  for  the 
homecoming.  At  last  the  day  arrived. 

It  was  Saturday  morning.  The  wind  had  died  down,  and 
gave  threats  of  rain  for  the  first  time  in  six  long,  hot  dry 
weeks.  He  hitched  John  and  Humpy  to  the  spring  wagon, 
and  with  a  touch  of  his  old  enthusiasm,  left  his  grandmother 
cheerfully  —  but  for  reasons  of  his  own,  did  not  tell  her 
that  he  was  going  for  Orlean.  Perhaps  he  wished  to  sur- 
prise her,  at  least  he  did  not  tell  her. 

He  drove  to  Winner  more  filled  with  hope  than  he  had 
been  for  months. 

The  town  was  filled  that  day,  and  because  there  was  an 
appearance  of  rain  in  the  air,  which  could  yet  save  much 
of  the  corn,  there  was  an  air  of  hope  and  cheer  abroad. 
Jean  thought  to  board  a  train  and  ride  a  few  miles,  and 
return  on  the  evening  train  on  which  she  would  be.  Then 
he  decided  he  would  wait  for  her  and  be  ready  to  drive 
directly  home.  As  the  train  was  due  shortly  after  nine 
p.  M.,  he  estimated  that  he  could  drive  the  distance  in  two 
hours;  thereby  getting  to  her  claim  before  midnight  and 
they  could  spend  Sunday  together  celebrating  their  happy 
reunion. 

He  had  longed  to  talk  with  her  —  and  grieve  with  her 


MCCARTHY  PREACHES  A  SERMON      329 

over  their  loss  in  the  fine  little  boy  who  never  knew  his 
parents.  He  thought  of  all  this  and  of  the  happy  days  they 
had  spent  together  the  summer  before.  He  felt  the  love 
and  the  devotion  she  had  given  him  then.  He  wondered 
sometimes  whether  he  had  ever  loved  her  as  he  had 
dreamed  he  would  love  his  wife ;  but  this  thought  had  ever 
been  replaced  by  his  sense  of  duty.  Marriage  was  sacred; 
it  was  the  institution  of  good;  he  always  disliked  to  see 
people  part.  He  felt  then,  as  he  had  ever  felt  before,  that 
nothing  but  infidelity  could  ever  make  him  leave  a  woman 
that  he  had  married.  He  was  still  an  enemy  of  divorce. 
He  recalled  how  they  had  gone  to  the  Catholic  church  once 
in  Gregory,  and  had  heard  a  learned  priest  discourse  on 
divorce  and  its  attendant  evils.  Never  before  had  any- 
thing so  impressed  him.  How  plain  the  priest  had  made  his 
audience  understand  why  the  church  did  not  tolerate  di- 
vorce. How  decidedly  he  had  shown  that  divorce  could  and 
would  be  avoided  if  the  people  could  be  raised  to  feel  that 
"  until  death  do  us  part/'  And  Baptiste  and  the  woman  he 
had  married  had  discussed  it  afterward.  They  had  found 
books  and  stories  in  the  magazines  to  which  they  subscribed, 
and  had  read  deeper  into  it,  and  had  been  united  in  their 
opinion  on  the  subject.  Divorce  was  bad;  it  was  evil;  it 
was  avoidable  in  almost  every  case.  Then  why  should 
it  be? 

They  had  agreed  that  duty  toward  each  other  was  the 
first  essential  toward  combating  it;  that  selfishness  was  a 
thing  that  so  often  precipitated  it.  In  all  its  phases  he  had 
discussed  it  with  her,  and  in  the  end,  she  had  agreed  with 
him.  And  down  in  their  hearts  they  had  felt  that  such 
would  never  be  necessitated  in  the  union  they  had  formed. 

So  he  lived  again  through  the  life  that  had  been  his,  he 
did  not  allow  his  mind  to  dwell  on  the  evil  that  had  come 


330  THE  HOMESTEADER 

into  and  made  his  life  unhappy;  made  his  days  and  nights 
and  very  existence  a  misery.  He  did  not,  as  he  lingered  on 
the  platform  of  that  little  western  station,  think  or  dwell 
on  the  things  that  were  best  forgotten.  For  a  time  he  be- 
came Jean  Baptiste  of  old.  Return  to  him  then  did  all  that 
old  buoyancy,  all  that  vigor  and  great  hope,  all  that  was  his 
when  he  had  longed  for  the  love  that  should  be  every  man's. 

,And  she  had  been  away  on  a  visit,  to  recover  from  the 
illness  that  the  delivery  had  given  her.  He  was  sorry  for 
their  loss,  and  he  would  talk  with  her  this  night  as  they 
drove  along  the  trail.  They  would  talk  of  that  and  all  they 
had  lost,  and  they  would  talk  of  that  which  was  to  come. 
Oh,  it  would  be  beautiful!  Just  to  have  a  wife,  the  wife 
that  gives  all  her  love  and  thought  to  making  her  husband 
happy.  And  he  would  try  to  give  her  all  that  was  in  him. 
And  his  wife  would  soon  be  with  him  —  in  his  arms,  and 
they  would  be  happy  as  they  had  once  been ! 

There  it  was !  From  down  the  track  the  train  whistled. 
It  was  coming,  and  his  wait  was  to  an  end.  Near  he  saw 
John  and  Humpy  whom  she  had  been  delighted  to  drive. 
They  were  groomed  for  the  occasion,  and  were  anxious  to 
go  home.  Tonight  they  would  haul  her  and  hear  her  voice. 
He  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet  when  at  last  the  light  fell 
upon  the  rails  and  he  could  see  the  engine.  The  roar  of 
the  small  locomotive  was  approaching.  Around  him  were 
others  whose  wives  had  been  away.  They,  too,  were  come 
to  meet  their  loved  ones.  Some  were  alone  while  around 
the  others  were  children  —  all  waiting  to  meet  those  dear  to 
their  hearts. 

The  train  came  to  a  stop  at  last,  and  the  people  emerged 
from  the  coaches.  There  was  the  usual  caressing  as  loved 
ones  greeted  loved  ones.  Little  cries  of  "mama"  and 
"  papa  "  were  heard,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  quite  a 


MCCARTHY  PREACHES  A  SERMON     331 

hubbub  of  exclamations.  "  Oh,  John/'  and  "  Jim "  with 
the  attendant  kiss.  In  the  meantime  he  looked  expectantly 
down  the  line  to  where  the  car  doors  opened,  and  not  seeing 
the  one  for  whom  he  was  looking,  he  presently  jumped 
aboard  the  first  car,  and  passed  through  it.  It  was  empty 
and  he  estimated  that  she  would  be  in  the  rear  car.  It  was 
the  chair  car,  and  the  one  in  which  he  naturally  would  ex- 
pect her  to  ride.  He  passed  into  it  bravely,  with  his  lips 
ready  to  greet  her.  The  last  of  the  passengers  were  filing 
out.  The  car  was  empty,  and  his  wife  had  not  come. 

Slowly  he  passed  out  of  the  car  as  the  brakeman  rushed 
in  to  change  his  apparel  for  the  street.  Across  the  street 
was  the  team  waiting.  They  seemed  to  know  him  before  he 
came  in  sight  and  they  greeted  him  as  though  they  thought 
that  she  had  come,  too. 

He  got  slowly  into  the  wagon,  and  soon  they  were  hur- 
rying homeward. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHAT  THE  PEOPLE   WERE  SAYING 

NJ.  McCARTHY  arrived  in  the  city  late  on  Friday 
afternoon  and  was  met  by  both  his  daughters. 
•    Ethel  had,  of  course,  read  the  letters  Jean  Bap- 
tiste  had  written  his  wife  requesting  her  to  return  home,  and 
so  she  took  Orlean  with  her  to  meet  her  father,  instead  of 
permitting  her  to  go  to  the  station  to  return  to  the  husband 
who  had  asked  for  her.     The  Elder  was  due  in  about  the 
same  time  the  train  that  would  have  taken  Orlean  West  was 
due  out. 

"Ah-ha,"  he  cried  as  he  stepped  from  the  car.  "And 
both  my  babies  have  come  to  meet  their  father!  That  is 
the  way  my  children  act.  Always  obedient  to  their  father. 
Yes,  yes.  Never  have  contraried  or  disobeyed  him,"  a 
compliment  he  meant  for  Orlean,  but  Ethel  could  share  it 
this  once,  although  the  times  she  had  contraried  or  sauced 
him  would  have  been  hard  to  recount. 

Upon  arriving  home,  they  met  Glavis  just  returning  from 
work,  and  he  was  also  greeted  in  the  same  effusive  manner 
by  the  Reverend. 

"  And  how  is  everything  about  the  home,  my  son  ? " 
asked  the  Elder  in  a  big  voice.  At  the  same  time  he  eyed 
Glavis  critically.  He  had  come  to  the  city  with  and  for  a  pur- 
pose, and  that  purpose  was  to  put  down  early  the  intimacy 
that  had  been  reported  as  growing  up  between  Glavis  and 
Baptiste.  So  he  had  planned  to  attend  to  it  diplomatically. 

"  Why   everything   is   alright,    father,"    glabbed    Glavis, 

332 


WHAT  THE  PEOPLE  WERE  SAYING      333 

grinning  broadly  and  showing  his  teeth.  He  was  ever  af- 
fected by  the  other's  lordlyism,  and  he  had  never  tried 
matching  his  wits  with  those  of  the  other's  in  an  extraordi- 
nary manner.  The  Elder  was  aware  of  this,  and  it  made 
him  rather  grateful.  However,  he  regarded  the  other 
closely  as  Glavis  stepped  about  in  quick  attention  to  his 
possible  needs  or  desires.  That  was  as  he  had  hoped  to 
have  both  his  sons-in-law,  wherefore  his  team  would  have 
been  complete.  It  made  him  sigh  now  regretfully  when  he 
recalled  how  he  had  failed  in  the  one  case.  He  gave  up 
momentarily  to  a  siege  of  self  pity.  How  different  it 
would  have  been  had  Jean  Baptiste  chosen  to  admire 
him  as  Glavis  apparently  did.  But  —  and  he  straightened 
up  perceptibly  when  it  occurred  to  him,  instead  of  being 
as  Glavis  was,  the  other  had  chosen  to  be  independent,  to 
call  him  "Judge,"  "Colonel,"  "Reverend,"  and  "Elder" 
and  any  other  vulgar  title  he  happened  to  think  of  on  the 
moment.  Moreover,  he  had  also  chosen  to  ask  him  a  thou- 
sand questions  about  things  he  did  not  understand  —  that 
was  the  trouble,  though  the  Elder  had  not  seen  it  that  way — 
asking  him  questions  about  things  he  did  not  understand. 
The  Elder  saw  it  as  "  impudent."  He  saw  and  regarded 
that  persistency  which  had  been  the  making  of  the  man 
in  Jean  Baptiste  as  "  hardheadedness."  He  regarded  that 
tenacity  to  stick  to  anything  in  the  other,  sufficient  to  char- 
acterize "  a  bulldog." 

"  M-m,  my  boy,"  he  said  now  to  Glavis.  "  You  are  cer- 
tainly a  fine  young  man,  just  fine,  fine,  fine !  "  He  paused 
briefly  while  Glavis  could  swallow  the  flattery,  and  then 
went  on :  "  Never  in  the  thirty  years  I  have  been  a  min- 
ister of  the  gospel  and  been  compelled  to  be  away  from 
home  in  God's  work,  has  it  ever  been  like  it  has  since  you 
married  Ethel.  I  simply  do  not  have  to  worry  at  all  now ; 


334  THE  HOMESTEADER 

whereas,  I  used  to  have  to  worry  all  the  time."  Whereupon 
he  paused  again,  affected  a  lordly  sigh,  and  permitted  Glavis 
to  become  inflated  with  vanity  before  going  on. 

"  Now,  before  you  married  Ethel,  I  was  a  little  dubious." 
He  always  said  this  for  a  purpose.  "  I  am  so  well  in- 
formed and  understand  men  so  well,  and  the  ways  of  men, 
until  I  was  hesitant  to  risk  trusting  you  with  my  daughter's 
love.  You  will  understand  how  it  is  when  you  have  raised 
children  with  the  care  I  have  exercised  in  the  training  of  my 
precious  darlings.  A  man  cannot  be  too  careful,  and  for 
that  reason,  I  was  dubious  regarding  her  marrying  you. 
Besides,  we,  I  think  you  understand,  are  among  the  best  col- 
ored people  of  the  city  of  Chicago,  and  the  State  of  Illi- 
nois, so  it  behooved  me  to  exercise  discretion." 

"  Yes,  father,"  Glavis  swallowed.  He  felt  then  the  dig- 
nity of  his  position  as  a  member  of  such  a  distinguished 
family. 

"  Well,"  went  on  the  other,  "  you  know  how  much  grief 
I  must  be  enduring  when  I  see  this  poor  baby,"  pointing  to 
Orlean,  "  as  she  is.  The  finest  girl  that  ever  trod  the  earth, 
and  my  heart  always,  and  then  to  see  her  dragged 
down  to  this,  and  all  this  attendant  gossip,  grieves  my  old 
heart,"  whereupon  big  tears  rolled  down  his  dark  face.  All 
those  about  sighed  in  sympathy  and  were  silent. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  shame,  a  shame,  my  father,  it  is  a  shame ! " 
he  cried  between  sobs.  "  Oh,  his  immortal  soul !  Come  in 
here  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  with  his  dirty  tongue  just 
deliberately  stole  her  from  her  good  home  —  her  an  innocent 
child  to  go  out  into  that  wilderness  and  sacrifice  her  poor 
soul  to  make  him  rich !  "  He  ended  with  the  eloquence  that 
his  years  of  preaching  had  given  him.  He  shed  more  tears 
of  mortification,  and  resumed : 

"  And  my  wife,  her  own  mother,  was  a  party  to  it!  "     He 


WHAT  THE  PEOPLE  WERE  SAYING      335 

was  killing  two  birds  witn  one  stone  now.  Nothing  was 
more  gratifying  to  him  than  to  seize  every  possible  oppor- 
tunity to  place  all  his  failures,  all  his  shortcomings,  all  his 
blunders,  and  last,  but  not  least,  all  the  results  of  his  evil 
nature,  on  the  shoulders  of  his  little  helpless  wife.  For 
years  —  aye,  since  he  had  taken  her  as  wife,  had  it  been 
so.  Never  had  she  shared  even  in  reflected  light  the 
honors  that  had  come  to  him.  She  did  as  he  requested, 
and  endeavored  to  please  him  in  every  way.  The  love  he 
had  given  her  was  an  affected  love.  It  was  not  from  his 
heart.  He  had  given  her  little  that  was  due  her  as  his 
wife. 

"  I  went  out  there,"  he  went  on,  "  to  find  this  child  lying 
there  in  the  bed  with  only  his  sister  and  grandmother  to 
look  after  her.  The  doctor  was  coming  twice  a  day,  but 
that  man  asked  him,  when  she  could  but  open  her  eyes, 
whether  such  was  necessary ;  and  that  when  it  wasn't,  then 
to  come  but  once.  I  sat  there  by  her  bed,  I,  her  poor  old 
father,  and  nursed  her  back  to  life  from  the  brink  of  death, 
the  death  that  surely  would  have  come  had  it  not  been  for 
me.  And  when  she  was  well  enough,  I  went  to  all  the  ex- 
pense of  bringing  her  out  of  that  wilderness  back  to  her 
home  and  health. 

"  And  for  that,  for  all  that  I  have  sacrificed,  what  am  I 
given  ?  Credit  ?  Well,  I  guess  not !  I  am  being  slandered ; 
I'm  being  vilified  by  evil  people  —  and  right  in  my  own 
church!  Think  of  it!  For  thirty  years  I  have  preached 
the  law  of  the  gospel  and  saved  so  many  souls  from  hell, 
and  now,  now  when  my  poor  old  head  its  white  and  my 
soul  is  grieved  with  the  evil  that  has  come  into  my  home, 
I  am  vilified ! 

"  No  longer  than  last  week,  I  was  approached  by  a 
woman,  a  woman  purporting  to  be  a  child  of  God,  but  who 


336  THE  HOMESTEADER 

tips  to  me  and  said :  '  Reverend  Mac.,  what  is  the  matter 
with  your  daughter  and  the  man  she  married?  I  hear  they 
are  parted  ? '  I  was  so  put  out  that  I  did  not  attempt  to 
answer,  but  just  regarded  her  coldly.  But  did  that  stop 
her  mouth  ?  Well,  I  guess  not !  She  went  right  on  as  flip 
as  she  could  be :  '  Well,  you  know,  Reverend,  there  is  all 
kinds  of  reports  about  to  various  effects.  One  is  that  you 
didn't  like  him  because  of  his  independent  ways,  and  be- 
cause he  was  successful,  and  he  didn't  take  much  stock  in 
you  because  he  didn't  like  the  way  you  had  lived.  And  then 
there's  other  reports  that  he  made  an  enemy  of  you  be- 
cause he  didn't  praise  and  flatter  you,  and  that  you  did  it 
to  "  get  even."  They  say  that  you  had  your  daughter  to 
sign  her  husband's  name  to  a  check  for  a  large  sum  of  money 
and  used  it  to  slip  away  from  him  and  so  on.  But  the  one 
thing  that  everybody  seems  to  be  agreed  upon  is,  that  there 
was  nothing  whatever  wrong  between  the  couple,  and  that 
they  had  never  quarreled  and  never  had  thought  of  part- 
ing. That  all  the  trouble  is  between  you  and  your  son-in- 
law/ 

"  I  had  stood  her  gab  about  as  long  as  I  could,  I  was 
so  angry.  So  all  I  could  say  was :  '  Woman,  in  the 
name  of  heaven,  get  you  away  from  me  before  I  forget  I 
am  a  minister  of  the  gospel  and  you  a  woman ! '  But  be- 
fore she  had  even  observed  how  angry  I  was,  she  ups  and 
says :  '  Why,  now,  Elder,  as  much  as  you  love  the  ladies, 
and  then  you'd  abuse  a  poor  woman  like  me,'  and  right 
there,  after  such  a  tonguing  as  she  had  let  out,  fell  to 
crying ! 

"  Those  are  some  of  the  things  I  must  endure,  my  son, 
in  this  work.  I  must  endure  slander,  vilification,  misunder- 
standing, and  all  that.  It's  terrible." 


WHAT  THE  PEOPLE  WERE  SAYING      337 

"  People  are  certainly  ungrateful,"  cried  Ethel  at  this 
point.  "And  they  don't  try  to  learn  the  truth  about  any- 
thing before  they  start  their  rotten  gossip.  More,  they 
have  nerve  with  it!  A  certain  woman  stopped  me  on  the 
street  downtown  the  other  day,  a  woman  who  claims  to 
have  been  my  friend  and  a  friend  of  our  family  for  years. 
And  what  do  you  think  she  had  the  nerve  to  say  to  me? 
Well,  here's  what  it  was,  and  I  hope  she  said  it:  'Why, 
Ethel,  how  is  Orlean  ? '  I  replied  that  she  was  getting  bet- 
ter. She  says :  '  Is  she  sick  physically,  or  mentally  ?  '  I 
said :  '  I  don't  understand  you  ?  '  She  looked  at  me  kind 
of  funny  as  she  replied, '  Why,  don't  you  know,  Ethel  Glavis, 
that  it's  the  talk  around  Chicago  —  everybody  is  saying  it, 
that  you  and  your  father  went  out  West  there,  and  made 
her  forge  his  name  to  a  check  for  a  large  sum  of  money 
and  for  spite  and  spite  only,  took  poor  Orlean  away  from 
her  husband  and  came  back  here  and  spread  all  this  gossip 
about  her  being  sick  and  neglected  when  the  doctor  had 
come  to  see  her  every  day?  I  know  Jean  Baptiste  and  I 
have  not  lived  in  this  world  for  thirty-five  years  and  not 
able  yet  to  understand  people.  And  Jesus  Christ  couldn't 
make  me  believe  that  Jean  Baptiste  would  mistreat  Orlean. 
Besides,  all  this  talk  comes  from  you  and  your  father. 
Orlean  has  said  nothing  about  it.  She  is  just  simple  and 
easy  like  her  mother  and  will  take  anything  off  you  and 
your  father.  Now,  it's  none  of  my  business;  but  I  am  a 
friend  of  humanity,  and  I  want  to  say  this,  that  anybody 
that  is  doing  what  you  and  your  father  are  doing  will  suffer 
and  burn  in  hell  some  day  for  it ! '  And  she  flies  away  from 
me  and  about  her  business." 

"  It's  outrageous,"  the  Reverend  cried.  "  We  hardly 
dare  show  our  heads  on  the  street;  to  greet  old  friends  for 


338  THE  HOMESTEADER 

fear  we  are  going  to  be  ridiculed  and  abused  for  what  we 
have  done." 

"  It's  certainly  an  ungrateful  world,  that's  all,"  agreed 
Ethel. 


CHAPTER  X 


IT  DID  NOT  rain  the  night  Jean  Baptiste  went  to  Win- 
ner to  meet  the  wife  who  failed  to  come,  but  the  pro- 
tracted drought  continued  on  into  July.  For  three 
weeks  into  this  month  it  burned  everything  in  its  path. 
From  Canada  to  Kansas,  the  crops  were  almost  burned  to 
a  crisp,  while  in  the  country  of  our  story  proper,  only  the 
winter  wheat,  and  rye,  and  some  of  the  oats  matured. 
And  this  was  confined  principally  to  the  county  where  Jean 
Baptiste  had  homesteaded.  Here  a  part  of  a  crop  of  small 
grain  was  raised,  but  everything  else  was  a  failure. 

His  flaxseed  crop  in  Tripp  County  which  had  given  some 
promise  if  rain  should  come  in  time,  had  now  fallen  along 
with  all  else,  and  when  he  saw  it  next,  after  his  trip  to 
Winner,  it  was  a  scattered  mass  of  sickly  stems,  with  army 
worms  everywhere  cutting  the  stems  off  at  the  ground. 
The  whole  country  as  a  result,  was  facing  a  financial  panic. 
Interest  would  be  hard  to  raise  —  and  this,  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  the  year  before  had  seen  less  than  half  a  crop 
produced,  was  not  a  cheerful  prospect.  With  Baptiste,  and 
others  who  had  gone  in  heavily,  disaster  became  a  possi- 
bility; and,  unless  a  radical  change  intervened,  disaster  ap- 
peared as  an  immediate  probability. 

During  these  days  there  was  little  to  do.  He  had  har- 
vested what  little  crop  he  had  raised,  and  having  no  haul- 
ing or  anything,  to  engage  him  he  found  going  fishing  his 
only  diversion.  And  it  was  at  about  this  time  that  he  re- 

330 


340  THE  HOMESTEADER 

ceived  a  letter.     It  bore  the  postmark  of  the  town  where 
he  had  met  his  wife  in  the  beginning,  and  read : 

"My  dear  Jean: 

"  I  thought  I  would  be  bold  this  once  and  write  you,  since 
it  is  a  fact  that  you  are  on  my  mind  a  great  deal.  You  will, 
of  course,  remember  me  when  I  mention  that  it  was  in  my 
home  that  you  met  your  wife.  Rather,  the  woman  you 
married,  whom,  I  suppose,  from  what  I  hear,  has  not  proven 
very  faithful.  I  daresay  that  your  trip  to  my  home  that 
day  was  the  beginning  of  this  episode.  But  it  is  of  him,  the 
Reverend,  her  father,  of  whom  I  wish  to  speak. 

"  He  used  to  speak  of  you.  You  see  this  town  is  in  his 
itinerary,  and  I  therefore,  see  him  quite  often.  In  fact,  he 
is  quite  well  known  to  me,  and  visits  my  home,  and  has  been 
here  recently.  He  was  here  just  a  week  ago  yesterday 
before  going  into  Chicago,  and  I  asked  about  you.  He  ups 
with  his  head  when  I  did  so,  and  I  estimated  that  the  trou- 
ble that  is  supposed  to  be  between  you  and  Orlean,  is  possi- 
bly between  him  and  yourself. 

"  Well,  you  see,  it  is  like  this.  After  you  married  Orlean, 
we  could  hear  nothing  from  him  but  you.  You  were  the 
most  wonderful,  the  most  vigorous,  the  wealthiest  —  in  fact 
you  were  everything  according  to  his  point  of  view.  He 
preached  of  you  in  the  pulpit;  he  set  you  up  as  the  stand- 
ard and  model  for  other  young  men  to  follow.  Therefore, 
you  must  imagine  our  surprise  when  almost  over  night 
you  had  changed  so  perceptibly.  From  everything  a  man 
should  be  —  or  try  to  be,  as  a  young  man,  you  became  the 
embodiment  of  all  a  man  should  not  be.  Now  it  is  rather 
singular.  Apparently  the  Elder  must  have  been  possessed 
with  very  poor  judgment  to  begin  with,  or  you  must  have 
become  in  a  few  weeks  an  awfully  bad  man. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  say ;  but  in  as  much  as  I 
have  known  you  some  little  time  —  before  you  met  Orlean 
in  the  house  where  I  write  this,  I  cannot  conceive  or  realize 
how  you  could  change  so  quickly.  But  what  is  more  to  the 
point  —  I  have  known  the  august  Elder  even  longer  than 
I  have  you  —  know  him  since  I  have  been  large  enough  to 


"  UNTIL  THEN  "  34! 

know  anybody,  and  I  have  known  him  always  to  be  as  he 
is  yet.  One  wonders  how  such  men  can  have  the  con- 
science to  preach  and  tell  people  to  live  right,  to  do  right, 
so  they  may  be  prepared  to  die  right.  But  somehow  we 
take  the  Elder's  subtle  conduct  down  this  way  as  a  matter 
of  course.  We  think  no  more  —  I  daresay  not  as  much  -^ 
of  what  he  does  in  that  way  than  we  would  the  most  com- 
mon man  in  town.  But  it  is  too  bad  that  his  daughter  must 
suffer  for  his  evil.  Orlean  is  a  good  girl,  but  she  has  been 
raised  to  regard  that  old  father  as  a  criterion  of  righteous- 
ness, regardless  of  the  life  he  does,  and  always  has  lived. 
But  withal,  honestly,  I  do  feel  so  sorry  for  you.  I  am 
aware  that  this  letter  and  the  nature  of  its  contents  is  un- 
solicited, but  it  is  and  has  been  in  my  heart  to  say  it.  I 
really  feel  that  it  is  no  more  than  honest  to  protest  against 
in  some  manner,  the  wrong  that  man  is  practicing.  But  to 
the  point. 

"  The  last  time  he  was  here,  and  mama  asked  him  about 
you,  and  he  was  made  angry  because  of  it,  he  remarked 
among  the  discredits  he  endeavored  to  pay  the  country 
and  you,  that  there  was  no  church  for  her  to  attend.  I  re- 
marked that  you  had  said  you  attended  the  white  churches. 
Thereupon  he  became  very  demonstrative.  He  said  you 
did  attend  the  white  churches,  and  had  taken  her,  but  that 
you  went  to  the  Catholic  church  where  there  was,  of  course, 
no  religion  in  the  sense  to  which  she  had  been  raised.  I 
hardly  knew  how  to  reply  to  or  counter  this,  but  I  thought 
that  if  you  had,  and  she  had  belonged  to  the  Catholic 
church,  how  easy  it  would  be  now  for  you  to  lay  your 
cause  before  the  priest  and  have  it  considered.  But  if  you 
did  such  before  the  ministers  of  his  church  —  oh,  well,  I 
am  saying  too  much. 

"  And  only  now  have  I  arrived  at  the  event  I  choose  to 
relate.  It  is  always  so  when  one  chooses  to  gossip,  to  for- 
get the  things  that  may  be  of  real  interest.  Well,  word  has 
come  that  the  Elder  was  taken  violently  ill  in  Chicago  the 
other  day,  and  grave  fears  are  held  of  his  recovery.  I 
hear  that  he  is  very  low,  and  perhaps  the  Lord  might  see 
fit  to  remove  a  stumbling  block.  .  .  . 


342 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  I  must  close.  I  am  sure  I  have  bored  you  with  such  a 
long  letter  and  so  much  gossip ;  but  I  have  at  least  satisfied 
my  own  conscience.  So  hoping  that  all  comes  out  well  with 
you  in  the  end,  believe  me  to  be, 

"  Your  dear  friend, 
"  JESSIE  MANSFIELD." 

It  so  happened  that  the  exhausted  Jean  Baptiste  turned 
to  the  hope  that  illness  might  claim  his  enemy,  and  he  ex- 
changed letters  with  Jessie  Mansfield,  regularly,  and  after 
a  time,  found  her  correspondence  a  great  diversion. 

And  so  the  summer  passed.  Near  the  last  days  of  July 
the  severe  drought  was  broken,  but  too  late  to  benefit  the 
crops  which  had  been  so  badly  burned  by  the  drought.  He 
managed  to  get  considerable  land  into  winter  wheat,  and  the 
fall  came  on  with  only  a  crop  of  debts  and  overdue  bills 
that  made  him  regard  the  mail  box  dubiously. 

Winter  followed,  one  of  the  coldest  ever  known,  and 
spring  was  approaching  when  Jean  Baptiste  decided  to  make 
his  last  attempt  for  a  reunion  with  his  wife. 

In  all  the  months  that  had  followed  his  previous  trip  he 
had  planned  that  if  he  could  only  see  her,  could  only  see  her 
and  be  alone  with  her  for  a  day,  they  would  abridge  the 
chasm  that  had  been  forced  because  of  the  Reverend.  That 
one  had  not  obliged  him  by  dying  by  any  means,  but  had 
regained  his  health  in  a  measure,  so  Baptiste  read  in  the 
letters  he  received  from  Jessie.  However,  she  wrote,  it 
seemed  that  something  had  come  over  him,  for  he  was  not 
the  same.  He  had  lost  much  of  his  great  flesh,  wore  a  hag- 
gard expression,  and  seemed  to  be  weighted  down  with 
some  strange  burden. 

It  was  April  again  when  at  last  he  took  the  train  for 
Chicago,  for  the  last  time,  he  decided,  on  the  same  mission 
that  had  taken  him  there  twice  before.  He  planned  now,  to 


"  UNTIL  THEN 


343 


exercise  more  discretion.  Inasmuch  as  the  Reverend  was 
as  a  rule,  always  out  of  the  city,  he  trusted  to  fate  that  he 
would  be  out  this  time.  The  bitterness  that  had  grown  up 
in  his  heart  toward  the  Elder,  he  feared,  might  make  him 
forget  to  observe  the  law  of  the  land  if  he  chanced  to  en- 
counter that  adversary.  So  when  he  arrived  in  the  great 
city,  he  went  about  the  task  of  seeing  his  wife  under  cover. 

He  first  visited  a  barber  shop.  He  happened  into  one 
near  Van  Buren  on  State  Street,  where  lady  barbers  did  the 
trimming.  He  did  not  find  them  efficient,  and  was  glad 
when  he  left  the  chair.  He  decided  that  he  would  act 
through  Mrs.  Pruitt,  who  he  had  heard  from  the  fall  be- 
fore, and  who  was  being  charged  along  with  Mrs.  Mc- 
Carthy, as  being  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble. 

He  had  not  written  her  that  he  was  coming,  calculating 
that  it  would  be  best  for  her  not  to  have  too  long  to  think 
it  over.  Upon  leaving  the  barber  shop,  he  ventured  up 
State  Street,  through  the  notorious  section  of  the  "  old 
tenderloin  "  to  Taylor  Street,  and  presently  turned  and  dis- 
covered himself  in  the  Polk'  and  Dearborn  Street  station. 
He  found  that  slipping  about  the  street  under  cover  like  a 
sneak  thief  was  much  against  his  grain,  and  he  was  nervous. 
In  all  the  months  he  had  contemplated  the  trip,  he  had  taken 
great  care  not  to  let  Ethel  or  any  of  the  family  know  in 
advance  of  his  coming.  He  wanted  his  wife.  The  agony 
of  living  alone,  the  dreaded  suspense,  the  long  journey  and 
the  gradual  breaking  down  of  what  he  had  built  up,  played 
havoc  with  his  ne'rves,  and  he  was  trembling  perceptibly 
when  he  took  a  seat  in  the  station.  He  encountered  a  man 
upon  arrival  there,  whom  he  had  known  years  before,  and 
because  he  had  been  so  intent  on  keeping  out  of  sight,  the 
recognition  by  the  other  frightened  him.  He  managed  to 
control  himself  with  an  effort,  and  greeted  the  other 


344  THE  HOMESTEADER 

casually.  However,  he  was  relieved  when  he  recalled  that 
the  other  knew  nothing  of  his  relations  —  not  even  that  he 
had  ever  married. 

After  he  felt  his  nerves  sufficiently  calm,  he  ventured  to 
the  telephone  booth,  and  secured  Mrs.  Pruitt's  number.  He 
paused  briefly  before  calling  her  to  steady  his  nerves,  and 
then  got  her  in  due  time. 

"  Hello,  Mrs.  Pruitt,"  He  called. 

"'Hello,"  came  back,  and  he  caught  the  surprise  in  her 
voice.  "  Is  it  you?"  she  asked,  and  he  noted  that  her  voice 
was  trembling. 

"  Yes,"  he  called  back  nervously.  "  Do  you  recognize 
my  voice  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  heard,  and  the  uneasiness  with  which  she  an- 
swered discouraged  him.  He  had  great  faith  in  Mrs. 
Pruitt.  Notwithstanding  the  gossip  that  connected  her 
name  with  the  Elder's  she  was  regarded  as  a  woman  of  un- 
usual ability  and  mental  force.  She  was  speaking  again  in 
a  very  low  tone  of  voice.  Almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  Listen,"  said  she.  "  Call  this  same  number  in  about  ten 
minutes,  understand?  Yes.  Do  that.  I'll  explain  later." 

He  sat  before  the  clock  now,  in  the  station,  and  watched 
the  minutes  pass.  They  seemed  like  hours.  He  was  now 
aware  that  the  strain  of  these  months  of  grief  and  eternal 
mortification,  had  completely  unnerved  him.  His  compos- 
ure was  like  that  of  an  escaped  convict  with  the  guards 
near.  His  heart  beat  so  loud  until  he  looked  around  in  cold 
fear  wondering  whether  those  near  heard  it.  And  all  the 
while  he  sat  in  this  nervous  quandary,  he  kept  repeating 
over,  and  over  again :  "  Mrs.  Pruitt,  Mrs.  Pruitt  —  surely 
even  you  have  not  gone  back  on  me,  too.  Oh,  Mrs.  Pruitt, 
you  can't  understand  what  it  means  to  me,  what  I  have  suf- 
fered,—  the  agony,  the  disgrace  —  the  hell! "  He  regarded 


"  UNTIL  THEN  " 


345 


the  telephone  booth  before  him  and  his  eyes  were  like 
glass.  All  the  busy  station  was  a  hubbub.  After  what 
seemed  to  him  an  eternal  waiting,  he  was  slightly  relieved 
to  see  that  fifteen  minutes  had  passed,  and  he  got  up  and 
slipped  back  into  the  booth  and  called  Mrs.  Pruitt. 

"  Yes,  I'm  here,  Jean,"  she  called,  "  and  the  reason  I 
told  you  to  call  later  was  that  your  people  —  your  father- 
in-law  is  right  here  in  the  house  at  this  moment.  He  was 
sitting  right  here  by  the  'phone  when  you  called  awhile  ago, 
so  now  you  understand." 

"  Oh,"  he  cried,  his  head  swimming,  and  everything  grew 
dark  around  him.  After  one  long  year  of  agony,  of  eternal 
damnation,  one  long  year  of  waiting  and  suspense,  he  had 
banked  his  chances,  and  encountered  his  enemy  the  first 
thing.  Right  under  the  telephone  he  had  been !  Jean  Bap- 
tiste  who  had  once  been  a  strong,  brave  and  fearless  man, 
was  now  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"Now,  Jean,"  he  heard  Mrs.  Pruitt.  "I  understand 
everything.  You  are  here  to  see  and  get  Orlean  if  you 
can;  but  you  want  to  do  so  without  them  knowing  any- 
thing about  it,  and  I  agree  with  you.  You  wish  me  to  help 
you,  and  I  will.  I'll  do  anything  to  right  this  terrible  wrong, 
but  give  me  time  to  plan,  to  think!  In  the  meantime,  he 
is  so  near  that  it  is  not  safe  for  me  to  talk  with  you  any 
longer.  So  you  go  somewhere,  and  come  back,  say:  in 
about  an  hour.  If  he  is  still  here,  I  will  say:  'this  is  the 
wrong  number.'  Get  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Pruitt,"  he  replied,  controlling  the  storm  of 
weakness  that  was  passing  over  him.  "  I  get  you." 

"  Very  well,  until  then." 

"  Until  then,"  he  called,  and  hung  up  the  receiver. 


CHAPTER  XI 


JEAN  BAPTISTS  had  come  eight  hundred  miles  after 
one  terrible  year,  to  the  feet  of  his  father-in-law,  and 
when  he  realized  that  such  was  the  case  upon  hanging 
up  the  receiver,  his  composure  was  gone.  Bitter  agony  be- 
yond description  overwhelmed  him  when  he  came  from  the 
booth  at  the  end  of  his  brief  conversation  with  Mrs.  Pruitt. 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  been  as  miserable  as  he  now  was. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  in  the  next  hour  he  must  surely  die 
of  agony.  He  found  a  place  in  the  station  where  he  was 
very  much  alone,  and  for  a  time  gave  up  to  the  grief  and 
misery  that  had  come  over  him. 

"  Unless  I  find  some  diversion,  I  will  be  unfit  for  any- 
thing but  suicide ! "  he  declared,  trying  to  see  before  him. 
Out  in  the  West  all  was  wrong.  He  was  now  loaded  down 
with  debt.  His  interest  was  unpaid,  also  his  taxes.  His 
creditors  for  smaller  amounts  he  had  not  even  called  upon  to 
say  that  he  was  unable  to  meet  his  financial  obligations.  He 
had  tried  being  blind  to  everything  but  the  instance  of  his 
wife.  He  had  just  deliberately  cast  everything  aside  until 
he  could  have  her.  That  was  it.  He  had  made  himself 
believe  that  only  was  it  necessary  to  see  her  alone,  and  to- 
gether they  would  fly  back  to  the  West.  He  had  not 
reckoned  that  his  arch  enemy  would  be  lying  like  a  great  dog 
right  at  the  door  he  was  to  enter. 

And  now,  before  he  was  hardly  in  the  city,  he  was  all  but 
confronted  with  his  hypocritical  bulk. 

"  Oh,  I  can  stand  it  no  longer,  no,  no,  no !  "  he  cried  in 

346 


"  IT'S  THE  WRONG  NUMBER  "  347 

agonizing  tones.  The  world  to  him  was  lost.  The  strong 
shall  be  the  weakest  when  it  becomes  so,  it  is  said;  and 
surely  Jean  Baptiste  had  come  to  it  in  this  hour.  He  had 
no  courage,  he  had  no  hope,  he  had  no  plans. 

After  minutes  in  which  he  reached  nowhere;  minutes 
when  all  the  manhood  in  him  crept  out,  and  went  away  to 
hide,  he  staggered  to  his  feet.  He  straightened  his  body, 
and  also  his  face;  he  became  an  automaton.  He  had  de- 
cided to  seek  artificial  stimulation.  Thereupon  he  made  his 
way  into  the  main  waiting  room.  He  looked  about  him 
as  one  in  a  daze,  and  finally  turned  his  face  toward  the  en- 
trance of  the  station.  When  there  he  had  arrived,  he  hesi- 
tated, and  looked  from  right  to  left.  As  he  did  so,  his  mind 
went  back  to  some  years  before  when  he  first  saw  the  city, 
and  had  gone  about  its  streets  in  search  of  work.  A  block 
or  two  away  he  recalled  Clark  Street,  that  part  of  it  which 
had  been  notorious.  He  recalled  where  one  could  go  and 
see  almost  anything  he  wished. 

Now,  he  was  a  man,  was  Jean  Baptiste,  a  man  who  had 
loved  a  wife  as  men  should ;  a  man  who  had  found  a  wife 
and  a  wife's  comfort  all  he  had  longed  for  in  life.  But  that 
one  he  had  taken  as  wife  had  fled.  She  had  left  him  to  the 
world,  and  all  that  was  worldly.  He  was  breaking  down 
under  the  strain,  and  his  manhood  was  for  the  time  gone. 
He  became  as  men  are,  as  men  have  been,  and  he  was  at  a 
place  where  he  did  not  care.  He  was  alone  in  the  world, 
the  prairies  had  not  been  good  to  him,  and  he  felt  he  must 
have  rest,  oh,  rest. 

He  stepped  from  the  station,  and  held  himself  erect  with 
an  effort.  He  turned  to  his  left,  and  walked  or  rather 
ambled  along.  He  did  not  know  in  particular  where  he  was 
going,  but  going  somewhere  he  was.  He  kept  his  face 
turned  to  the  west,  and  after  many  steps,  he  came  to  a 


348  THE  HOMESTEADER 

side  street.  It  was  a  narrow  street,  and  he  recalled  it 
vaguely.  It  was  called  Custom  House  Place,  and  its  repu- 
tation for  the  worst,  was  equalled  by  none.  Even  from 
where  he  stood  the  sound  of  ragtime  music  came  to  his 
ears  from  a  gorgeous  saloon  across  its  narrow  way. 

He  listened  to  it  without  feeling,  no  thrill  or  inspiration 
did  it  give  him.  He  turned  into  this  street  after  some  min- 
utes, and  ambled  along  its  narrow  walkway.  As  he  went 
along,  from  force  of  habit,  he  studied  the  various  forms  of 
vice  about.  In  and  out  of  its  many  ways,  he  saw  the 
familiar  women,  the  painted  faces  and  the  gorgeous  eyes. 
He  came  presently  to  where  Negroes  stood  before  a  saloon. 
They,  too,  were  of  the  type  he  understood.  Characters  with 
soft  hands,  and  soft  skin,  and  he  knew  they  never  worked. 
He  turned  into  it.  A  bar  was  before  him,  and  although  for 
liquor  he  had  never  cared  especially,  he  could  drink.  He 
went  forward  to  the  bar  and  ordered  a  cocktail.  He  drank 
it  slowly,  as  he  observed  himself,  all  haggard  and  worn  in 
the  bar  mirror,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  could  see  what  was  pass- 
ing behind  him.  A  man  sat  in  a  small  ante  room  near  a 
door,  and  he  observed  that  men  would  pass  by  this  man  to 
a  door  opening  obviously  to  a  stairway  beyond.  He  won- 
dered what  was  beyond.  He  ordered  another  cocktail,  and 
drank  it  slowly,  studying  those  who  passed  back  and  forth 
through  the  door  that  the  man  opened  with  a  spring.  He 
decided  to  venture  thereforth. 

When  he  had  drank  his  cocktail,  he  wandered  toward  the 
door  also,  as  if  he  had  been  accustomed  to  entering  it.  The 
door  opened  before  him  and  he  entered.  He  found  him- 
self in  a  hallway,  with  a  flight  of  stairs  before  him,  and  a 
closed  and  locked  door  on  the  stairway.  He  stood  regard- 
ing it,  and  espied  a  bell  presently.  This  he  approached  and 
touched. 


"  IT'S  THE  WRONG  NUMBER  " 


349 


The  door  was  opened  straightway  and  the  flight  of  stairs 
continued  to  the  landing  above.  He  looked  up  and  beheld 
a  woman  standing  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  who  had  seem- 
ingly opened  the  door  by  pressing  a  button.  He  entered  and 
approached  her.  As  he  did  so,  she  turned  and  led  him  into 
a  small  room,  then  into  a  larger  room,  where  sat  many  other 
women.  He  was  directed  to  a  chair,  and  became  seated. 
He  regarded  all  the  women  about  wonderingly ;  for  to  him, 
none  had  said  a  word.  He  might  as  well  have  been  in  a 
house  of  tombstones,  for  they  said  naught  to  him,  and  did 
not  even  look  at  him. 

He  sat  where  he  was  for  perhaps  two  minutes.  Then  he 
arose  and  walked  to  the  door  which  he  had  entered,  and 
turned  to  look  back  into  the  room.  It  was  empty,  every 
woman  had  disappeared  without  a  sound  in  a  twinkling,  all 
except  the  woman  who  had  admitted  him.  She  stood  be- 
hind, regarding  him  noncommittally. 

"  What  is  this  place  ?  "  he  inquired  of  her.  She  looked 
up  at  him,  and  he  thought  he  caught  something  queer  in 
her  eyes.  But  she  replied  in  a  pleasant  tone: 

"  Why,  it  is  anything." 

"  Oh,"  he  echoed.  She  continued  to  stand,  not  urging 
him  to  go,  nor  to  stay.  He  looked  at  her  closely,  and  saw 
that  she  was  a  white  woman,  perhaps  under  thirty. 

"  A  sort  of  cabaret?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  pleasant  tone  of  voice. 
"  A  sort  of  cabaret." 

"  So  you  serve  drinks  here,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  serve  drinks  here." 

"Where?" 

"  Well,"  and  she  turned  and  he  followed  her  to  another 
room  apparently  the  abode  of  some  one.  Included  in  the 
furniture  there  was  a  table  and  two  chairs,  and  while  he 


350  THE  HOMESTEADER 

became  seated  in  one,  she  took  the  other  and  her  eyes  asked 
what  he  wished. 

"  A  cocktail,"  he  said. 

She  went  to  a  tube  and  called  the  order. 

"  And  something  for  yourself,"  he  said. 

She  did  as  he  directed,  and  duplicated  his  order.  She 
came  back  to  where  he  sat  by  the  table  and  sat  before  him, 
without  words,  but  a  pleasant  demeanor. 

"  Here's  luck,"  he  said,  when  the  drinks  had  been 
brought  up. 

"  Same  to  you,"  she  responded,  and  both  drank. 

He  told  her  then  to  bring  some  beer,  and  when  the  order 
had  been  given,  he  bethought  himself  of  his  errand.  In- 
stantly he  became  oblivious  of  all  about  him,  and  the  old 
agony  again  returned.  He  stretched  across  the  table,  and 
was  not  aware  that  he  groaned.  He  did  not  hear  the  woman 
who  stood  over  him  when  she  returned  with  the  beer.  He 
was  living  the  life  of  a  few  minutes  before, —  misery. 

"  Here  is  your  beer,"  she  said,  but  he  made  no  move. 
Presently  she  touched  him  lightly  upon  the  shoulder,  where- 
upon he  sat  erect,  and  looked  around  him  bewilderingly. 

"  Your  beer,"  she  said,  and  he  regarded  her  oddly. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  said  now,  and  regarded  him 
inquiringly. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  replied. 

"Of  something  unusual,"  she  ventured. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  wearily.     "  Of  something  unusual/' 

She  observed  him  more  closely.  She  saw  his  haggard 
face ;  his  tired,  worn  expression,  and  beneath  it  all  she 
caught  that  sad  distraction  that  had  robbed  him  of  his  com- 
posure. In  some  way  she  really  wished  to  help  him.  Here 
was  an  unusual  case.  She, —  this  woman  who  was  for  sale, 
became  seated  again,  and  regarding  him  kindly  she  said: 


"IT'S  THE  WRONG  NUMBER"  351 

"  You  are  in  trouble." 

He  sighed  but  said  no  word. 

"  In  great  trouble." 

He  sighed  again,  and  handed  her  the  money  for  the  beer. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  she  said  thoughtfully  and  her 
eyes  fell  upon  the  table.  His  hat  lay  there,  and  she  saw 
therein  the  name  of  the  town  where  it  had  been  purchased. 

"  You  don't  live  here  ?  "  she  suggested  then. 

"  No,"  he  mumbled,  trying  to  dispel  the  heaviness  that  was 
over  him.  If  he  could  just  forget.  That  was  it.  If  he 
could  forget  and  be  normal;  be  as  he  had  been  until  that 
evil  genius  had  come  back  again  into  his  life.  "  No,"  he 
repeated,  "  I  don't  live  here." 

"And  —  you  —  you  —  have  just  come?"  she  said.  Her 
voice  was  kind.  "Is  it  —  it  —  a  woman?" 

He  nodded  slowly. 

"  Oh,"  she  echoed.     "  Your  wife,  perhaps  ?  " 

He  nodded  again. 

"Oh!" 

They  were  both  silent  then  for  some  moments;  he 
struggling  to  forget,  she  wondering  at  the  strange  circum- 
stances. 

"  Has  some  one  come  between  you  ?  "  she  inquired  after 
a  time. 

"  Yes,"  he  whispered. 

"Oh,  that's  bad,"  she  uttered  sympathetically.  "It  is 
bad  to  come  between  a  man  and  his  wife.  And  you — "  she 
paused  briefly  then  bit  her  lip  in  slight  vexation,  then  ob- 
served him  with  head  bent  before  her.  It  was  rather  un- 
usual, and  that  was  what  had  vexed  her.  Could  it  mean 
anything  what  a  woman  like  her  thought  of  or  sympathized. 
Yet,  she  was  moved  by  the  condition  of  the  stranger  before 
her.  She  felt  she  had  to  say  something.  "  And  you  — 


352  THE  HOMESTEADER 

you  don't  look  like  a  bad  fellow  at  all."  He  looked  up  at 
her  with  expressionless  eyes.  She  returned  the  look  and 
then  went  on: 

"  You  have  such  honest,  frank  and  truthful  eyes.  Hon- 
estly, I  feel  sorry  for  you." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  he  said  gratefully  then.  To  have  some 
one  —  even  such  a  woman  look  at  him  so  kindly,  to  say 
words  of  condolence  was  like  water  to  the  thirsty.  He 
thought  then  again  of  that  other,  and  the  father  that  was 
hers,  who  at  that  moment  sat  in  the  company  of  another 
man's  wife.  He  recalled  that  Mrs.  Pruitt  said  that  he  had 
been  in  town  for  several  days  and  every  day  since  he  had 
been  there.  Naturally.  This  man  courted  another  man's 
wife  openly,  yet  was  ready  with  all  the  force  in  him,  the 
moment  Jean  Baptiste  sought  his  God-given  mate,  to  rise 
up  in  pious  dignity  to  oppose  him.  Wrath  became  his  now, 
and  his  eyes  narrowed.  In  the  moment  he  wanted  to  go 
forth  and  slay  the  beast  who  was  making  this.  He  rose 
slightly.  She  saw  it,  and  her  eyes  widened.  She  reached 
out  and  touched  his  hand  where  it  gripped  the  table. 

"  Please  don't  do  that"  she  said,  and  in  her  voice  there 
was  a  slight  appeal. 

He  regarded  her  oddly,  and  then  understood.  He  sank 
back  listlessly  in  the  seat,  and  sighed. 

"  Poor  boy,"  she  said.  "  Some  one  has  done  you  a  ter- 
rible wrong.  It  is  strange  how  the  world  is  formed,  and 
the  ill  fortune  it  brings  to  some.  I  can  just  see  that  some 
one  has  done  you  a  terrible  wrong,  and  that  when  you  rose 
now  you  would  have  gone  forth  and  killed  him." 

He  regarded  her  with  gratitude  in  his  eyes,  and  the  ex- 
pression upon  his  face  told  her  that  she  had  spoken  truly. 

"  But  try  to  refrain  from  that  desire.  Oh,  it's  justifi- 
able it  seems.  But  then  when  we  stop  to  think  that  we  will 


"  IT'S  THE  WRONG  NUMBER  " 


353 


never  feel  the  same  afterward  about  it,  it's  best  to  try  to 
forget  our  grief.  You  are  young,  and  there  are  worlds 
of  nice  girls  who  would  love  and  make  for  you  happiness. 
Some  day  that  will  be  yours  in  spite  of  all.  So  please,  just 
think  and  —  don't  kill  the  one  who  has  done  this." 

"  You  are  awfully  kind,"  he  whispered.  He  felt  rather 
odd.  Of  all  places,  this  was  not  where  men  came  to  be 
consoled,  indeed.  But  herein  he  had  gotten  what  he  could 
not  get  on  Vernon  Avenue  where  church  members  were  sup- 
posed to  dwell.  He  arose  now.  .  .  .  He  reached  out  his 
hand  and  she  took  it.  "  I  don't  quite  understand  what  has 
happened,  but  you  have  helped  me."  He  reached  into  his 
pocket  and  withdrew  some  coins,  and  this  he  handed  her. 
She  drew  back  her  hand,  but  he  insisted. 

"  Yes,  take  it.  /  understand  your  life  here.  But  you 
have  helped  me  more  than  you  can  think.  I  was  awfully 
discouraged  when  I  came.  Almost  was  I  to  something 
rash.  Take  it  and  try  to  remember  that  you  have  helped 
some  one."  He  squeezed  her  hand,  and  she  cast  her 
eyes  down,  and  as  she  did  so,  he  saw  a  tear  fall  to  the  floor. 
He  turned  quickly  then  and  left. 

He  retraced  his  steps  toward  the  Polk  Street  station,  and 
to  the  booth  he  had  been  inside  of  an  hour  before.  He 
called  Mrs.  Pruitt,  and  after  a  time  came  back  over  the  wire, 
in  a  low,  meaning  voice : 

"  It's  the  wrong  number." 


CHAPTER  XII 

MRS.   PRUITT   EFFECTS   A   PLAN 

HE  had  some  friends  who  lived  on  Federal  Street  and 
to  their  home  he  decided  to  go.     He  thought  of 
the  day  when  he  had  married.     The  man  ran  on 
the  road.     His  wife  he  had  known  long,  her  name  being 
Mildred,   Mildred   Merrill.     She   had  been   invited   to   his 
wedding  but  had  not  attended.     When  he  had  seen  her  a 
year  later,  and  had  asked  her  why  she  had  not  attended,  she 
replied  that  she  had  been  unable  to  purchase  a  suitable 
wedding  gift. 

Her  parents  had  been  lifelong  friends  of  his  parents,  and 
he  had  been  provoked  because  she  stayed  away.  She  and 
her  husband  had  been  quietly  married  in  the  court  house  and 
had  since  lived  happily  together. 

"  Oh,  Jean,"  Mildred  cried,  when  the  door  opened  and  she 
saw  his  face.  "  We  have  just  been  talking  of  you,"  as  she 
swung  the  door  wide  for  him  to  enter. 

"  Mama,"  she  called,  "  here  is  Jean  Baptiste !  "  Her 
mother  came  hurriedly  forward,  grasped  his  hand,  and  ex- 
changed a  meaning  look  with  Mildred. 

"  And  you  are  back  again/'  she  said  as  all  three  became 
seated. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  sighed. 

"  It's  awful,"  commented  her  mother. 

"  Isn't  it  the  truth,  oh,  my  God,  how  can  those  people 
be  so  mean  ?  "  cried  Mildred. 

354 


MRS.  PRUITT  EFFECTS  A  PLAN 


355 


"  He's  in  Chicago,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mildred,  "  and  I'll  bet  right  over  at  Mrs. 
Pruitt's  every  day." 

"  He  wouldn't  be  likely  to  be  home,"  commented  her 
mother. 

"  He  returns  as  a  rule  along  about  midnight."  The  two 
laughed  then,  and  regarded  the  man. 

"  You  ought  to  give  her  up,  Jean,"  said  Mildred.  "  A 
woman  that  has  no  more  will  power  than  she  has,  isn't  fit 
—  isn't  worth  the  grief  you  are  spending." 

"  Yes,  Mildred,  it  does  seem  so,  but  she  is  my  wife,  and 
somehow  I  feel  that  I  should  give  her  every  chance." 

"  The  case  is  unusual,"  commented  her  mother  again. 
"  The  man  has  a  reputation  for  such  actions  —  rather,  he 
has  been  known  to  persecute,  and  does  persecute  the  preach- 
ers that  are  under  his  dictation  in  the  church.  But  that 
such  would  extend  to  the  possible  happiness  of  his  own 
children !  Indeed,  it  hardly  seems  credible." 

"  Vanity,  mama.  Reverend  McCarthy  is  regarded  as  the 
most  vain  man  in  the  church.  Jean  here  has  never  flat- 
tered him  —  tickled  his  vanity,  and  this  is  the  price  he's 
paying." 

"  Well,"  said  her  mother.  "  Such  as  this  can't  keep  up. 
Some  day  he's  going  to  be  called  on  to  pay  —  and  the  debt 
will  be  large." 

"  Understand  that  he  aspires  for  the  bishopric  in  the 
convention  next  month,"  said  Mildred. 

"Shucks!"  exclaimed  her  mother.  "That's  all  bluff. 
He  seeks  to  grab  off  a  little  cheap  notoriety  around  Chicago 
before  he  goes  to  conference.  There  is  as  much  chance  of 
his  being  even  entered  as  a  candidate  for  the  office  as  there 
is  of  me." 

"  That's  what  I  think,"  from  Mildred. 


356  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  What  are  your  plans,  Jean?  "  her  mother  now  inquired 
of  Baptiste  who  sat  in  a  sort  of  stupor  listening  to  their 
talk. 

"  I  am  trying  to  get  to  see  her  without  the  old  man's 
knowledge."  And  he  told  them  of  his  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Pruitt. 

"  Isn't  that  a  wife,  now !  "  exclaimed  Mildred.  "  Afraid 
to  meet  the  man  she  has  married." 

"  Orlean  and  old  lady  McCarthy  have  no  voice  in  that 
house,"  said  her  mother.  "  First  it's  the  Reverend,  and 
then  follows  Ethel." 

"  And  it  hardly  seems  credible  when  one  knows  how  he 
has  always  flirted  with  other  women,"  said  Mildred. 

"  I  asked  Orlean  the  last  time  I  saw  her,"  said  Mildred 
again,  "what  was  the  matter;  was  Jean  mean  to  her,  or 
had  he  neglected  her.  She  said:  No,  that  he  was  just  as 
good  to  her  as  he  could  be,  but  that  she  could  not  stay  out 
in  that  wild  country;  that  it  would  impair  her  health,  and 
she  just  couldn't  stay  out  there,  and  that  was  all." 

"  Reverend  McCarthy,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Of  course.  But  that  is  one  thing  I  have  observed. 
They  have  never  got  her  to  lie  as  they  have  done,  and  say 
that  he  mistreated  her."  From  Mildred. 

"  It's  to  be  regretted  that  she  has  not  more  will  to  stand 
up  for  what  she  knows  to  be  right,"  said  her  mother. 

"  You  have  taken  it  up  with  the  right  person,  Jean," 
said  Mildred.  "If  any  one  can  help  you  in  such  a  delicate 
undertaking,  it  is  Mrs.  Pruitt.  She  has  more  influence  with 
that  old  rascal  than  his  wife.  In  fact,  his  wife,  from  what 
I  hear,  has  no  influence  at  all." 

"  Well,  Jean,"  said  Mildred's  mother,  "  you  are  to  be  ad- 
mired for  the  patience  you  have  exercised  with  Orlean. 
The  average  man  would  have  knocked  that  old  white  headed 


MRS.  PRUITT  EFFECTS  A  PLAN 


357 


rascal  stiff  and  let  Orlean  go,  and  I  don't  wonder  that  if  I 
was  a  man  that  I  wouldn't  have  done  so  myself." 

"  If  I  were  that  weak,  and  could  see  things  as  I  do  now,  I 
would  want  my  husband  to  shoot  me.  I'm  getting  out  of 
patience  with  Orlean's  weakness,"  Mildred  added. 

"  Well,"  said  Baptiste  at  this  point,  "  it  is  now  eleven, 
and  I  will  call  up  Mrs.  Pruitt  to  go  ahead  with  certain 
plans  that  I  have  in  view.  Have  you  a  'phone  ?  " 

"  Just  outside,"  said  Mildred,  and  opened  the  door. 

He  got  Mrs.  Pruitt  directly,  and  again  came  back  over 
the  wire: 

"  It's  the  wrong  number ! "  But  during  the  recent  con- 
versation he  had  forgotten  for  the  moment  the  "  counter 
sign,"  and  continued  calling  back.  Frantically  he  heard 
again  and  again,  "  The  zvrong  number!  You  have  the 
wrong  number!"  Suddenly  he  caught  on,  and  as  sud- 
denly hung  up  the  receiver  with  a  jerk. 

He  didn't  go  to  the  Keystone  that  night.  He  felt  as 
though  he  wanted  to  be  near  some  friends.  Accordingly  he 
went  to  Miss  Rankin's.  She  was  glad  to  see  him,  and,  like 
all  his  friends,  knew  his  troubles,  and  welcomed  him. 

"  You  will  awaken  me  early  tomorrow  —  say,  six 
o'clock  ? "  he  asked,  and  upon  being  assured  she  would, 
he  went  to  bed. 

All  the  night  through  his  sleep  was  fitful.  He  saw 
gorgeous  processions  that  frightened  him,  and  then  again 
he  was  thrilled;  but  never  did  he  seem  to  feel  just  right. 
Then  he  saw  his  enemy.  He  dreamed  that  he  came  to  him 
and  kissed  him;  he  heard  him  saying  kind  words,  and  saw 
his  wife  by  his  side.  They  were  back  in  the  West  and  his 
wife  was  returning  from  a  visit.  He  was  aroused,  and 
jumped  to  his  feet.  He  looked  at  the  clock,  and  the  time 
was  half  past  five.  All  the  agony  of  the  day  before  came 


358  THE  HOMESTEADER 

back  with  a  rush,  and  he  was  overwhelmed.  Thereupon  he 
got  him  up,  and,  dressing  quickly,  hurried  out  of  the  house 
and  caught  a  car  to  where  Mrs.  Pruitt  lived  on  the  west 
side,  in  the  basement  of  an  apartment  building,  of  which 
her  husband  was  janitor. 

He  estimated  that  the  other  would  go  home  during  the 
night,  and  early  morning  would  be  the  time  to  form  some 
plan  of  action.  It  seemed  a  long  way  to  the  west  side,  and 
it  was  after  seven  when  he  arrived  there. 

He  was  greeted  by  Mrs.  Pruitt,  and  the  expression  upon 
her  face  did  not  disappoint  him. 

"  Now,  Jean,"  she  said,  "  I  have  prepared  you  some  break- 
fast, and  you  must  eat  first,  for  I'll  wager  that  not  a  bite 
have  you  eaten  since  you  talked  with  me  yesterday." 

"  It  is  so,  Mrs.  Pruitt,"  said  he,  recalling  then  that  eating 
had  not  occurred  to  him  for  the  last  eighteen  hours  or  more. 

"Well,"  said  she,  becoming  seated,  "  he  left  here  at  al- 
most midnight,  and  I  have  been  planning  just  what  to  do, 
that  you  may  see  Orlean.  I  certainly  shoufd  have  little 
patience  with  a  girl  that  has  no  more  gumption  than  Orlean ; 
but  since  I  know  that  she  gets  it  from  her  mother,  who 
has  not  as  much  as  a  chicken,  I  have  accepted  the  in- 
evitable. 

"  Now,  to  begin  with.  If  I  called  up  and  had  her  come 
over  here,  he  would  come  with  her,  of  course,  and  also 
maybe  Ethel.  And  you  know  what  that  would  mean.  It 
is  so  unusual  that  such  a  thing  could  be,  but  that  is  Reverend 
McCarthy.  He  has  always  been  this  way,  and  I  could  not 
change  him.  You  erred  when  you  didn't  flatter  him.  But 
that  you  did  not  have  to  do,  and  I  don't  blame  you.  He 
has  done  you  dirty,  and  some  day  he's  going  to  pay  for  it. 
I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  did  not  soon,  either.  He  is 
a  disturbed  man,  he  is.  Never  has  he  been  happy  as  he 


MRS.  PRUITT  EFFECTS  A  PLAN 


359 


was  before  he  brought  that  girl  home.  The  crime  he  has 
committed  is  weighing  on  him,  and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  he 
wouldn't  be  glad  to  have  Orlean  go  back  with  you.  The 
only  thing  is,  that  he  has  been  associated  with  a  hard  headed 
lot  of  Negro  preachers  so  long,  until  his  disposition  is  in- 
grained. He  actually  couldn't  be  as  he  should.  He  would 
let  Orlean  go  back  to  you,  but  he  would  determine  on  a  lot 
of  ceremony,  and  something  else  that  you  are  ill  fitted  to 
forego.  So  the  best  way,  as  I  can  see,  is  for  you  to  meet 
Orlean  somewhere,  and  there  reason  it  out  with  her." 
She  paused  briefly  then,  and  was  thoughtful. 

"  She  loves  you  as  her  mother  loves,  in  a  simple,  weak 
way ;  but  what  is  a  love  like  that  worth !  In  truth,  while  I 
admire  your  courage,  and  desire  to  uphold  the  sacredness 
of  the  marriage  vow,  you  ought  to  get  a  divorce  and  marry 
a  girl  with  some  will  and  force." 

"  I  realize  so,  Mrs.  Pruitt,  but  I  am  determined  to  live 
with  Orlean  and  protect  her  if  it  is  within  my  power." 

"  I  understand  your  convictions  and  sentiments,  Jean,  and 
admire  you  for  it.  If  the  world  contained  more  men  like 
you,  the  evil  of  divorce  would  lessen ;  but  on  the  other 
hand,  as  long  as  it  contains  men  like  the  Reverend,  and 
women  like  Orlean,  there  will  always  be  ground  for 
divorce." 

"  But  every  man  should  exhaust  all  that  is  in  him  for 
what  he  feels  is  right,  shouldn't  he,  Mrs.  Pruitt?"  spoke 
Baptiste. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said  somewhat  absently.  She  looked 
quickly  at  him  then,  and  her  eyes  brightened  with  an  in- 
spiration. 

"  By  the  way,  Jean,"  she  said.  "  You  remember  Mrs. 
Merley?" 

"  Who  ?     Blanche's  mother  ?  " 


360  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  The  same." 

"  Most  sure.     Why  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Pruitt.  "  I  have  been  thinking.  She's 
a  friend  of  yours,  a  good  friend,  although  you  might  not 
have  known  it." 

"  It  is  news  to  me  —  that  is,  directly." 

"  Well,  she  is,  and  has  been  very  much  wrought  up  over 
the  Reverend's  treatment  of  you." 

"  Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  it  is  so.  You  see,  moreover,  she  is  a  distant  re- 
lation of  Mrs.  McCarthy's,  and  is  fairly  well-to-do." 

"  So  I  have  understood." 

"  Yes,  they  are,  and  McCarthys  sort  of  look  up  to  them." 

"Yes?" 

"  Mrs.  Merley  is  independent,  and  hasn't  much  patience 
with  the  Elder." 

"  So." 

"  No,  and  for  that  reason  he  admires  her." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Yes,  and  she  was  over  there  and  sort  a  '  bawled '  them 
out  over  what  they  were  doing.  Understand  that  she  just 
spat  it  in  the  Elder's  face  and  he  had  to  take  it." 

"Well?" 

"  Yes.  You  see  Blanche  got  married  this  last  summer, 
and  didn't  quite  please  her  mother." 

"Oh,  is  that  so?" 

"  Yes,  Mary  Merley  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  frankly  she 
almost  told  me  that  she  wished  Blanche  had  married  some 
one  on  your  order. 

"Oh!  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  she  did.  And  meant  it !  She  admired  your  type, 
and  I  know  she  would  have  been  more  fully  pleased  in  such 


MRS.  PRUITT  EFFECTS  A  PLAN  361 

He  was  silent. 

"  Anyhow,  I  have  planned  that  it  will  be  through  her  that 
you  and  Orlean  may  be  brought  together." 

He  was  attentive. 

"  But  before  you  go  into  it,  my  request  is  that  my  name 
shall  be  left  out." 

His  eyes  asked  a  question  that  she  answered. 

"  It  is  so.  While  Mary  is  a  friend  of  mine,  she  has  cer- 
tain habits  that  I  don't  like." 

He  regarded  her  more  questioningly. 

"  I  will  say  no  more." 

His  face  blanched,  and  then  his  mind  went  back  two 
years.  Orlean  had  made  just  such  a  remark.  He  was 
sorry. 

"  So  I  don't  want  you  to  mention  me,  since  it  would  do 
no  good." 

"  I  understand." 

"  I  want  her  to  have  the  credit  for  whatever  success 
might  come  of  this." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  my  plans  are  that  you  go  over  there,  and  see 
her?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Jolly  her  a  little,  and  don't  let  on  that  you  are  aware 
that  she  admires  you.  " 

"  Very  well." 

"  Get  her  to  call  Orlean  up,  and  suggest  a  show." 

"  I  get  you." 

"  And  there  you  are." 

"  Your  plan  is  simple,  but  practical,"  and  he  smiled  upon 
her  thankfully. 

He  was  standing  now.  He  held  out  his  hand.  She 
grasped  it,  and  bending  forward,  kissed  him. 


362  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Be  careful,  Jean,"  she  said.     "  And  don't  do  anything 
rash." 

When  he  went  his  way,  he  understood. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MRS.    MERLEY 

THE  APRIL  morn  shone  beautifully  over  Chicago, 
when  Jean   Baptiste  came   from  the  basement  of 
the  apartment  where   Mrs.   Pruitt  lived,   and  had 
bade  Godspeed  to  him.     It  was  election  day  over  all  the 
state,  a  preferential  primary  for  the  purpose  of  choosing 
delegates  to  the  G.  O.  P.  convention  to  be  held  two  months 
later.     And  when  Jean  Baptiste  thought  of  it,  he  understood 
what  had  brought  the  Reverend  to  the  city. 

Baptiste  arrived  at  Mrs.  Merley's  an  hour  after  he  left 
Mrs.  Pruitt,  went  directly  to  the  number  and  pulled  the 
bell.  It  was  responded  to  by  a  young  woman  he  did  not 
know,  but  she  assured  him  that  the  one  he  sought  was  in, 
and  after  seating  him  in  the  parlor,  hurried  to  tell  Mrs. 
Merley. 

She  came  at  once  all  joy  and  gladness,  and  greeted  him 
with  a  shake  of  both  hands,  and  kissed  him  into  the  bar- 
gain. 

"  Sit  right  down,  sit  right  down,"  she  said  profusely. 
"  And,  oh,  my,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you !  "  she  smiled  upon 
him  happily,  proving  how  glad  she  really  was,  and  he  was 
moved. 

"  And  you  came  to  see  me,"  she  continued.  "  You  could 
have  called  on  no  one  who  would  have  been  more  delighted 
to  see  you !  " 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honor,  Mrs.  Merley/'  said  he 
gratefully. 

363 


364  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Indeed,"  she  returned.     "  I  could  not  do  you  enough/' 

"  I  hadn't  hoped  for  so  much  kindness,  I  am  sure." 

"  But,  Jean,  you  don't  know  how  much  I  have  thought 
about  you  in  the  last  two  years,  and  I  have  longed  to  talk 
with  you ! " 

"  Oh,  really !  But  I  thought  I  was  forgotten  by  every- 
body in  Chicago." 

"  You  have  never  been  forgotten  by  us.  And  especially 
have  we  talked  of  you  in  this  last  year.  .  .  ." 

He  was  silent,  though  he  felt  he  understood  her  reference. 

"  Some  dirty  sinner  ought  to  be  in  torment !  " 

And  still  he  did  not  speak. 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  that  has  been  done  to  you,  Jean,"  she 
went  on  tenderly. 

"  Your  words  give  me  much  relief,  Mrs.  Merley." 

"  I  wish  they  could  give  you  more.  It  is  my  wish  that 
an  opportunity  could  be  given  me  to  help  you." 

He  straightened.  Now  was  the  time  to  state  his  mission. 
But  she  was  speaking  again: 

"  I  spoke  my  sentiments  to  his  face,  the  rascal !  All  his 
dirty  life  has  been  given  to  making  people  miserable,  wher- 
ever he  could." 

Jean  said  nothing,  but  was  listening  nevertheless. 

"  He  has  been  a  rascal  for  thirty-five  years,  and  has  made 
that  simple  cousin  of  mine  he  married,  the  goat."  She 
paused  to  get  her  breath.  "  I  saw  Orlean  not  long  ago,  and 
asked  her  where  her  will  was,  or  if  she  had  any." 

He  was  attentive.     Always  he  liked  to  hear  her. 

"  She,  of  course,  tried  to  stand  up  for  that  arch  hypo- 
crite. But  I  waived  that  aside.  Said  I  to  her :  '  Orlean, 
I  could  never  believe  you  if  you  said  Jean  Baptiste 
abused,  mistreated  or  neglected  you.'  She  looked  down 
when  I  had  spoken  and  then  said  evenly.  '  No,  Jean  did 


MRS.  MERLEY  365 

not  do  any  of  those  things/  '  Then/  said  I.  *  Why  do  you 
live  apart  from  him,  the  man  you  married?  Where  is  your 
sense  of  duty?'  'But,  Mrs.  Merley/  she  tried  to  protest. 
'  I  just  couldn't  live  out  there  in  that  wilderness,  it  was  too 
lonesome/  '  Oh,  Orlean/  I  said  disgustingly,  '  do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  believe  that?  And  if  even  I  believed  you,  how 
could  I  respect  you  ? ' 

"  But  that  is  it,  Jean.  Here  is  this  family  posing  as 
among  the  best  Negro  families  in  Chicago,  but  with  no  more 
regard  for  what  is  morally  right  than  the  worst  thief.  In- 
deed, no  thief  would  do  what  that  man  is  doing/' 

He  mumbled  something  inaudible.  She  was  out  to  talk, 
so  he  heard  her  on : 

"  I  understand  the  whole  line  up,  and  their  vain  shielding 
of  that  old  rascal,  just  because  you  didn't  lie  to  him  and 
become  a  hypocrite  like  he  himself  is.  Everybody  near  him 
must  bow  to  him  and  tell  him  he  is  great,  else  he  will 
use  what  influence  is  his  to  *  get  even/  So  that's  the  whole 
output.  He  took  her  away  from  you  because  he  raised  her 
as  he  has  willed  my  cousin,  his  wife,  to  subserve  to  him. 
And  now  he  goes  around  here  with  all  that  dirty  affected 
piety  and  wants  people  to  sympathize  with  him  in  his  evil." 
She  paused  again  for  breath,  and  then  he  spoke : 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you  have  taken  the  view  of  this  you 
have,  Mrs.  Merley,"  he  said  slowly,  "  And  I  am  wondering 
therefore,  whether  you  would  be  willing  to  help  me  in  a 
certain  Christian  cause/' 

"  Why,  Jean !  Why  ask  me  ?  You  must  know  that  I 
would  help  you  in  any  way  I  could/' 

He  then  told  her  just  what  he  had  planned.  She  inter- 
rupted him  at  times  with  little  bursts  of  enthusiasm,  and 
there  was  no  hesitancy  on  her  part. 

"Anything,  Jean,  anything!     You  don't  know  how  anx- 


366  THE  HOMESTEADER 

ious  I  am,  and  how  glad  I  am  to  have  the  opportunity! 
The  only  thing  I  regret  is  that  you  ever  married  such  a 
weakling.  You  might  have  heard  that  Blanche  is 
married?  " 

"  I  have,"  he  replied.     "  I  trust  she  is  happy." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other  slowly,  "  she  appears  to  be,  withal. 
And  for  that  reason  I  suppose  I  should  be  thankful.  But 
she  did  not  quite  please  me  in  her  selection." 

"  Oh,"  he  echoed. 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly,  and  as  if  she  felt  the  disappoint- 
ment keenly.  "  She  did  not.  Her  husband,  it  is  true,  is 
good  to  her,  but  he  did  not  come  up  to  my  hope.  Yet,  and 
it  is  singular,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "  to  think  that  a  man 
with  all  you  possess  financially,  and  mentally,  should  get 
'in'  as  you  have."  She  paused  again  a  little  embarrassed, 
and  then  pursued : 

"  I  wish  Blanche  had  a  husband  of  your  disposition  and 
attainments." 

"  Blanche,  I  thought,  was  a  sweet  girl,"  he  said  reflec- 
tively. 

"  And  a  good  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Merley.  "  I  would  have 
given  anything  to  have  had  her  marry  a  promising  young 
farmer  of  your  order,  and  be  now  living  in  the  West." 

"  I  love  the  West,  and  had  hoped  others  would  be  loving 
it  too,"  he  said  ruefully. 

"  He  came  back  here  after  his  first  visit,  and  sitting  right 
where  you  are  now,  said  that  you  was  one  of  the  race's  most 
progressive  young  men.  He  added  to  this  everywhere  he 
had  half  a  chance  and  eulogized  you  to  the  highest.  It  hap- 
pened that  the  minister  who  married  you,  was  here,  and  he, 
too,  very  much  admired  you,  and  voiced  the  same  to  the 
Reverend.  That  old  devil  just  swelled  up  like  a  big  frog 
with  vanity.  Three  months  later  he  comes  back  here,  and, 


MRS.  MERLEY  367 

to  seek  to  justify  his  action,  he  spreads  the  town  with  lies 
that  nobody  believes." 

The  other  shifted  his  position. 

"  Well,  Jean,"  she  said  now  more  soberly,  "  just  what 
shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  If  you  would  not  mind  — " 

"Oh,  don't  say  that!" 

"  Very  well,  Mrs.  Merley.  I  would  like  you  to  call  her 
up  and  suggest  a  matinee." 

"  Why  not  just  go  to  one?  " 

"  That  would  please  me  if  you  would  condescend?  " 

"  I'd  be  glad  to  go,  and  in  view  of  the  circumstances,  I 
think  it  would  be  a  suggestive  idea.  Let  her  get  used  to 
your  presence  again,  without  coming  directly  to  the  point 
at  once." 

"  A  capital  idea,  I  agree !  " 

"  Call  her  up  and  ask  her  to  come  over  and  go  with  you 
to  the  matinee." 

"  That  is  the  plan,  and  I  understand." 

"  I  will  appreciate  your  kindness,"  said  he  heartily.  She 
arose  then  and  advancing  toward  him,  embraced  him  im- 
pulsively. 

Thereupon  she  went  to  the  telephone,  and  succeeded  in 
getting  his  wife  on  the  wire.  He  heard  her  answer  the 
call,  and  laugh  over  something  humorous  Mrs.  Merley  said. 
His  heart  beat  faster,  and  he  was  conscious  .that  he  was 
more  hopeful  than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time. 

"  Yes.  .  .  ."  Mrs.  Merley  was  saying.  "  I  want  you  to 
go  with  me  to  a  matinee.  ...  Be  here  at  one  forty- 
five.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  have  the  tickets.  .  .  .  And  you'll  not  be 
late." 

She  was  standing  before  him  again,  and  her  face  was 
lighted  up  with  the  joy  of  what  she  had  accomplished.  He 


368  THE  HOMESTEADER 

was  grateful,  and  rose  to  thank  her,  whereupon  she  em- 
braced him  again.  The  next  moment  she  went  quickly  up 
the  stairs  to  prepare  for  the  occasion. 

"  You  may  come  upstairs,  too,  Jean,"  she  invited,  "  and 
from  the  front  room  there,  you  can  watch  for  yours." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Merley,  you  make  me  happier  than  I  have 
been  for  a  long  time,"  he  said,  and  almost  was  he  emotional. 

"  And  I  have  a  nice  spare  bedroom  for  you  and  her,  to- 
night. And  tomorrow,  she  is  yours!' 

Jean  Baptiste  waited  and  watched,  and  then  suddenly  he 
heard  a  voice.  It  was  that  of  the  girl  who  had  admitted 
him,  who  was  also  watching. 

"  Here  she  comes/'  she  cried,  excitedly.  Jean  Baptiste 
looked  quickly  out  of  the  window  arid  up  the  street,  and 
saw  his  wife  coming  leisurely  toward  the  house  wherein 
he  was  sitting. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

QH,   MERCIFUL   GOD,    CLOSE  THOU   MINE  EYES ! 

REVEREND  NEWTON  JUSTINE  McCARTHY 
had  once  lived  in  Peoria,  Illinois,  and  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  late  Robert  Ingersoll.  Moreover, 
he  had  admired  the  noted  orator,  and  although  he  had  not  the 
courage,  in  truth,  he  believed  as  Ingersoll  believed.  And 
because  he  did,  and  was  forced  to  keep  his  true  convictions 
a  secret,  while  he  preached  the  gospel  he  did  not  believe, 
he  had  grown  to  hate  almost  all  people.  But  N.  J.  Mc- 
Carthy was  not  aware  of  this  fact  himself. 

Ever  since  he  brought  his  daughter  home,  and  had 
thereby  parted  her  from  the  man  she  married,  -  he  had 
never  been  the  same.  Always  he  was  troubled  with  some- 
thing he  could  not  understand.  His  dreams  were  bad. 
The  awful  sensations  he  very  often  experienced  while  in 
slumber,  grew  so  annoying  that  at  times  he  found  that 
he  was  almost  afraid  to  sleep.  Then,  a  persistent  illness 
continually  knocked  at  his  door.  The  truth  of  it  was,  that 
he  was  battling  with  a  conscience  he  had  for  years  crucified. 
But  it  would  persist.  So  deep  had  he  sowed  the  habits  he 
followed,  and  so  intrenched  were  the  roots  of  these  habits, 
until  it  was  no  easy  task  to  uproot  them. 

He  had  left  Mrs.  Pruitt  near  midnight  of  the  day  when 
Jean  Baptiste  had  arrived  on  his  trip  in  a  last  effort  to 
secure  his  wife.  The  family  had  retired  before  he  ar- 
rived home,  and  having  some  business  in  the  rear  of  the 
house,  he  passed  through  the  room  which  contained  the 

369 


370  THE  HOMESTEADER 

bed  wherein  his  daughter,  Orlean,  lay  in  peaceful  slum- 
ber. When  he  was  returning  he  paused  briefly  to  ob- 
serve the  face  of  the  sleeping  girl  in  the  moonlight.  Peace- 
fully she  slept,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  saw 
therein  something  he  had  never  seen  before.  He  felt  his 
flesh  and  wondered  at  the  feeling  that  was  come  over  him. 
It  seemed  that  he  was  asleep,  but  positively  he  was  awake. 
He  was  awake,  and  looking  into  the  sleeping  face  of  his 
daughter.  But  if  he  was  awake,  what  was  it  he  saw? 

Surely  not.  But  as  he  stood  over  her,  he  thought  he 
could  see  her  eyes  open,  and  look  at  him  strangely,  regard 
him  in  a  way  she  had  never  done  before.  And  as  she  looked 
at  him,  he  thought  she  raised  her  hand  that  lay  under  the 
cover,  and  with  her  forefinger  leveled,  she  pointed  at  him. 
In  the  trance  he  imagined  he  could  hear  her  voice.  She 
called  him : 

"  Father  ?  "    And  betimes  he  answered. 

"  Yes,  daughter." 

"  Where  is  my  husband?  "  He  gave  a  start.  He  thought 
he  caught  at  something,  and  then  he  heard  her  again : 

"  You  have  sent  him  away,  out  of  my  life,  and  the  day 
is  coming  when  you  will  be  called  upon  to  answer  for  your 
sins ! " 

He  thought  he  was  trembling.  All  about  him  was  tur- 
moil. He  saw  the  people,  the  friends  of  the  family,  and 
all  the  people  he  had  preached  to  in  thirty  years,  and  all  were 
pointing  an  accusing  finger  at  him.  And  out  of  the  chaos 
he  heard  them  crying:  "Shame,  oh  shame!  That  you 
should  be  so  evil,  so  vile,  such  a  hypocrite,  and  let  your  evil 
fall  upon  your  own  daughter!"  He  saw  then  the  wife  he 
had  taken  from  Speed.  He  saw  that  one  in  his  misery,  he 
saw  him  sink,  and  renounce  from  weakness  the  sentiments 
he  had  started  in  the  world  to  teach.  He  saw  him  struggle 


CLOSE  THOU  MINE  EYES ! 


371 


vainly,  and  then  saw  him  fall,  low,  lower,  until  at  last  the 
flames  of  hell  had  swallowed  him  up.  "  Merciful  God,"  he 
cried,  and  he  was  sure  he  staggered.  "  Was  it  /  who 
brought  all  this?"  But  before  he  could  recover,  the  pro- 
cession kept  passing. 

Behind  Speed  came  the  wife  he  had  robbed  him  of.  She 
carried  in  her  arms  a  baby  that  he  had  given  her.  By  the 
hand  she  led  the  other  illegitimate  offspring.  There  they 
were,  the  innocents  that  had  no  name.  He  saw  the  bent 
head  of  the  woman,  and  saw  the  grief  and  anguish  in  her 
face.  He  saw  her  suddenly  stop  and  fall,  and  while  she 
lay  upon  the  earth,  her  children  were  taken,  and  grew  up 
surrounded  with  all  that  was  bad  and  evil.  He  saw  one 
suddenly  dead,  while  still  a  boy,  murdered  by  the  compan- 
ions he  kept.  He  saw  his  'young  body  in  the  morgue.  And 
before  all  this  had  passed,  he  saw  this  one's  mother  again, 
the  woman  he  had  fooled,  in  the  depth  of  the  "  tenderloin." 
He  saw  her  a  solicitor,  and  he  could  hear  himself  groan  in 
agony. 

The  years  passed,  and  while  he  grew  older,  other  things 
came  and  went ;  a  train  of  evil  deeds  he  had  committed,  and 
at  last  came  his  own  daughter.  He  saw  her  passing  and 
when  he  saw  her  face,  the  agony  therein  frightened  him. 
Was  it  so !  Had  he,  done  that,  too  ?  Was  he  the  cause  of 
what  he  saw  in  this  girl's  face?  Suddeny  he  saw  her 
change,  and  in  the  distance  he  saw  Jean  Baptiste,  and  all  he 
had  suffered.  "  Oh,  merciful  God,  close  thou  mine  eyes," 
he  thought  he  could  hear  himself  call.  But  his  eyes  would 
not  close,  and  the  one  to  whom  he  appealed  appeared  to  be 
deaf,  and  the  procession  continued. 

He  saw  Orlean  stretch  her  hands  out  to  Baptiste,  and  he 
came  toward  her  with  arms  outstretched,  and  he  thought 
he  heard  a  voice,  the  voice  of  the  man  Jean  Baptiste.  And 


372  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  words  he  cried  rang  in  his  ears :  "  My  wife,  oh,  Or- 
lean,  my  wife !  Come  unto  me !  " —  But  lo !  When  the 
two  had  came  close,  and  the  man  would  have  held  her  to 
him,  a  shadow  suddenly  rose  between  them,  and  shut  them 
out  from  each  other's  sight.  He  thought  he  raised  his 
voice  to  call  out  to  the  one  of  the  shadow.  And  when  he 
called  to  him,  and  the  one  of  the  shadow  turned,  and  be- 
hold !  It  was  himself !  He  suddenly  came  out  of  the 
trance,  to  see  Orlean  sitting  up  in  bed.  He  caught  his 
breath  and  held  his  hand  over  his  heart,  as  he  heard  her 
voice : 

"  Papa,  is  that  you  ?  My,  how  you  frightened  me !  I  — " 
and  then  she  quickly  stopped.  She  had  started  to  say,  "  I 
thought  it  was  Jean,''  for  in  truth  she  had  dreamed  of  him, 
and  that  he  had  come  for  her,  and  she  was  glad,  and  when 
she  arose  to  go  she  had  awakened  to  find  her  father  standing 
over  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,"  he  said  rather  awkwardly.  "  It  is 
I.  I  stopped  to  look  at  you  and  seemed  to  forget  myself/* 
He  hurried  away  then,  and  up  the  stairs  to  his  room  and 
went  to  bed,  but  it  was  near  morning  when  he  fell  asleep. 

It  so  happened  when  Jean  Baptiste  had  gone  upstairs  to 
call  on  Mildred  and  her  mother,  he  had  knocked  at  the  door 
below.  A  man  lived  there  whom  he  had  known  in  the  years 
gone  by  and  who  had  educated  himself  to  be  a  lawyer.  His 
name  was  Towles,  Joseph  Towles.  Always  before  when  he 
was  in  the  city,  he  had  called  on  Towles  and  his  family, 
and  when  their  door  rose  before  him,  on  the  impulse  he 
had  forgotten  all  else  but  to  greet  them.  He  pushed  the 
bell,  and  no  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  he  recalled  his 
mission,  and  that  he  was  avoiding  his  acquaintances.  He 


CLOSE  THOU  MINE  EYES!  373 

quickly  passed  upstairs  but  not  before  Mrs.  Towles  had 
opened  the  door  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  passing. 

She  was  aware  of  his  difficulty,  and  had  pretended  to  sym- 
pathize with  him.  But  Mrs.  Towles  was  a  gossipy,  penuri- 
ous woman,  and  did  not  get  along  with  her  neighbors  over- 
head. So  when  she  saw  Jean  Baptiste  passing  up  the  stairs, 
and  hurrying  from  her  without  speaking,  she  at  once  became 
angry,  and  with  it  apprehensive.  She  went  back  to  where 
she  had  been  working  over  some  sewing.  She  was  thought- 
ful, and  then  regarded  the  clock. 

"  I  wonder  what  he  is  doing  here  ?  "  she  mused  to  her- 
self. And  then  she  suddenly  brightened  with  an  inspira- 
tion. "His  wife,  of  course,"  she  cried,  and  fell  to  think- 
ing further. 

She  happened  to  be  a  close  friend  of  a  certain  lady  who 
lived  next  door  to  the  McCarthys  on  Vernon  Avenue,  and 
it  was  to  her  that  she  decided  to  pay  a  visit  on  the  mor- 
row. And,  of  course  she  would  discuss  the  fact  that  she 
had  gotten  a  glimpse  of  Jean  Baptiste,  and  would  try  to 
find  out  what  she  could. 

It  was  the  following  afternoon  that  she  found  the  time 
to  visit  her  friend  in  Vernon  Avenue.  She  passed  by  the 
house  wherein  lived  the  McCarthys,  and  made  up  her 
mind  to  call  there  later  in  company  with  her  friend  to  hear 
the  news. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Towles !  "  cried  her  friend  when  she  saw  her 
face  upon  opening  the  door.  "  How  nice  it  was  of  you 
to  call,  when  I  was  not  expecting  you  !  Such  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise," whereupon  they  kissed  in  womanly  fashion.  She 
took  a  seat  by  the  window,  for  she  wished  to  look  into  the 
street.  The  other  took  a  chair  just  facing  her,  and  together 
they  fell  to  talking.  As  they  sat  there,  Orlean  suddenly 


374  THE  HOMESTEADER 

came  out  of  the  house  next  door,  down  the  steps,  and  passed 
before  Mrs.  Towles'  gaze  as  she  went  up  the  street  to  Wa- 
bash  Avenue  to-fill  the  engagement  with  Mrs.  Merley. 

"  Oh,  look,"  cried  Mrs.  Towles,  pointing  to  the  figure  of 
the  other.  "  There  goes  Orlean !  " 

The  other  strained  her  neck,  and  said: 

"  M-m." 

"  And  I  saw  her  husband  last  night." 

"  You  did !  "  exclaimed  the  other  in  great  surprise.  She 
had  a  grown  daughter  who  was  very  much  accomplished,  but 
unmarried.  So  she  took  a  delight  in  such  cases  as  Jean 
Baptiste's.  .  .  . 

"  I  did,"  replied  the  other,  making  herself  comfortable 
and  getting  ready  to  relate  his  strange  actions. 

"  Well,  well,  now ! "  echoed  the  other,  all  attention. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Towles,  and  then  related  all  that  had 
passed  which  was  not  anything  but  catching  a  glimpse  of 
Baptiste  as  he  had  disappeared  up  the  steps. 

"  I  don't  think  they  know  next  door,  that  he  is  in  town," 
suggested  the  other. 

"Don't  they?" 

"  Why,  not  likely.  You  know  the  last  time  he  was  here 
they  wouldn't  admit  him!"  They  eyed  each  other  jubi- 
lantly, and  then  went  on. 

"  Then  we  ought  to  go  right  over  and  inform  them  at 
once !  "  said  Mrs.  Towles. 

"  Just  what  we  should  do,"  agreed  the  other. 

And  so  it  happened  that  the  Reverend  learned  that  Jean 
Baptiste  was  in  the  city;  but  for  once  he  was  not  excited. 
Somehow,  he  hoped  that  Jean  would  meet  Orlean,  and  he 
knew  then  that  she  had  gone  out  for  that  purpose.  He  knew 
that  she  was  supposed  to  go  to  a  matinee,  and  he  realized 


CLOSE  THOU  MINE  EYES!  375 

from  previous  statements,  that  Mrs.  Merley  was  the  "go 
between." 

So  he  took  no  part  in  the  gossip  that  followed,  nor  did 
he  for  once  sigh  in  self  pity. 

Perhaps  after  all  he  had  decided  not  to  interfere. 


CHAPTER  XV      , 
"LOVE  YOU  —  GOD,  i  HATE  YOU!" 

THE  PLAY  they  witnessed  that  afternoon  was  an 
emotional  play,  and  in  a  degree  it  sufficed  to  arouse 
the  emotion  in  all  three.     The  meeting  between  Or- 
lean  and  her  husband  had  been  without  excitement.     As  if 
she  had  been  expecting  him,  she  welcomed  him,  and  they 
had  proceeded  directly  to  a  play  at  the  Studebaker  Theater 
downtown. 

When  they  were  again  in  the  street,  they  went  to  another 
theater  where  they  purchased  tickets  to  witness  Robert 
Mantell  in  Richelieu.  And,  later,  taking  a  surface  car 
on  State  Street,  proceeded  to  a  restaurant  near  Thirty-first 
Street  where  they  had  supper,  after  which  they  retired  to 
the  home  of  Mrs.  Merley. 

Of  course  that  one  left  them  to  themselves  in  due  time, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  engaged  in  congenial  con- 
versation. After  a  time  Jean  caught  her  hand,  and  despite 
the  slight  protest  she  made,  he  succeeded  in  drawing  her  up 
on  his  knee. 

"  I  ought  not  to  sit  here,"  she  said. 

"  Why  not,  Orlean  ? "  he  said  kindly,  placing  his  arm 
about  her  waist  fondly. 

"  Because." 

"Because  what,  dear?" 

She  looked  at  him  quickly.  He  met  her  eyes  appealingly. 
She  looked  away,  and  then  down  at  her  toes. 

376 


"  LOVE  YOU  —  GOD,  I  HATE  YOU !  "       377 

"  How  you  have  fleshened,"  he  commented. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  she  returned,  inclined  to  be  sociable. 

"  It  is  quite  noticeable.  And  you  are  better  looking  when 
you  are  so." 

"  Oh,  you  flatter  me,"  she  chimed. 

"  I  would  like  to  flatter  my  wife." 

She  did  not  reply  to  this.  She  appeared  to  be  comforta- 
ble, and  he  went  on. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  I  have  longed  to  see  you,  and  that 
it  has  not  been  just  right  that  I  could  not?  " 

And  still  she  made  no  answer. 

"  I  never  want  to  live  so  again.  I  want  you  always, 
Orlean." 

"  When  did  you  leave  home  ?  "  she  asked  now. 

"  A  couple  of  days  ago." 

"  And  how  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"  I  came  yesterday  afternoon." 

"And  when  to  Mrs.  Merley's?" 

"  This  morning." 

She  was  thoughtful  then.  Indeed  they  were  getting 
along  better  than  he  had  hoped.  There  remained  but  one 
thing  more.  If  he  could  persuade  her  to  stay  the  night  at 
Mrs.  Merley's  and  not  insist  on  going  home.  If  he  could 
keep  her  out  of  her  father's  sight  until  morning,  he  would 
have  no  more  worry.  That,  indeed,  was  his  one  point  of 
uneasiness.  Keeping  her  out  of  her  father's  sight.  He  re- 
called how  he  had  refrained  from  buying  a  revolver  when 
he  left  home.  It  would  not  have  been  safe  after  all  that 
had  passed  between  himself  and  her  father  for  him  to  have 
anything  of  the  kind  about,  and  he  was  glad  now  that  he  had 
been  sensible. 

He  drew  his  wife's  head  down,  turned  her  face  to  his, 
and  kissed  her  lips.  He  caught  the  sigh  that  passed  her 


378  THE  HOMESTEADER 

lips.  He  saw  her  eyebrows  begin  to  contract.  What  was 
passing  in  her  mind?  Duty?  Then,  to  whom? 

He  kissed  her  again,  and  caressed  her  fondly.  This 
meant  much  to  him.  He  told  her  so  then,  too. 

"  It  has  been  very  hard  on  me,  wife,  for  you  to  have 
stayed  away  a  whole  year.  Awfully  hard.  It  was  never 
my  plans  or  intention  for  such  to  be."  He  was  full  up  now. 
He  wanted  to  talk  a  long  time  with  her.  If  they  could  just 
retire  and  talk  far  into  the  night  as  they  had  done  in  the 
eleven  months  that  had  been  theirs. 

His  confidence  was  growing.  All  that  was  expedient  now, 
he  felt  sure,  was  to  keep  the  Reverend  out  of  it  until  morn- 
ing. By  that  time  no  further  effort  on  his  part  would  be 
necessary. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Orlean  ?  "  he  said  now,  drawing  her 
face  close  to  his  again. 

She  made  no  reply  audibly,  but  she  seemed  to  be  strug- 
gling with  something  within  herself.  In  truth  she  did  not 
want  to  say  that  she  did,  and  she  would  not  tell  him  she  did 
not.  She  let  her  arm  unconsciously  encircle  his  neck.  Her 
hand  found  his  head  and  stroked  his  hair,  while  she  was 
mentally  meditative. 

In  the  meantime,  his  head  rested  against  her  breast,  and 
he  could  hear  the  beating  of  her  heart. 

"  Oh,  my  wife,"  he  cried,  intended  for  himself  but  she 
heard  it.  It  aroused  her,  her  emotion  began  to  assert  itself. 
How  long  would  it  take  for  her  to  be  his  mate  again  at  this 
rate? 

"  How  is  everything  back  home?  "  she  asked,  as  if  seeking 
a  change.  He  hesitated.  She  looked  down  into  his  face 
to  see  why  he  did  not  answer  directly.  He  caught  her  eyes, 
and  she  could  see  that  he  was  not  wishing  to  tell  her  some- 
thing. 


"  LOVE  YOU  —  GOD,  I  HATE  YOU !  "       379 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Jean  ?  "  she  asked  now,  slightly  ex- 
cited and  anxious. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  replied.  He  wanted  to  tell  her  the 
truth,  all  the  truth,  but  it  was  not  yet  time  he  feared.  Un- 
til she  had  given  up  to  him,  he  decided  to  withhold  anything 
serious. 

"  There  is  something,  Jean,  of  that  I  am  sure,"  she  in- 
sisted, shifting  where  she  could  see  his  face  more  clearly. 

"If  there  is  anything,  wife,  I  would  discuss  it  later. 
Now, —  I  can  think  of  but  one  thing,  and  that  is  you," 
whereupon  he  caressed  her  again  fondly.  She  sighed  then 
and  her  emotion  was  becoming  more  perceptible. 

"You  are  going  back  home  with  me  tomorrow,  dear?" 
he  dared  to  say  presently. 

For  answer  she  shifted  uneasily,  and  then  her  eyes  espied 
the  clock  on  the  wall.  It  was  five-thirty. 

"  I  think  I  should  call  up  home,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
He  caught  his  breath,  and  trembled  perceptibly.  She  re- 
garded him  inquiringly. 

And  here  again  we  must  remark  about  Jean  Baptiste.  In 
the  year  of  misery,  of  agony  and  suffering  in  general  he 
had  endured,  he  had  settled  upon  one  theory.  And  that  was 
that  if  he  and  his  wife  were  to  ever  live  together  again  and 
be  happy,  the  family  were  to  be  kept  out  of  it.  Perhaps 
if  this  could  have  been  forgotten  by  him  in  this  moment, 
we  would  not  have  had  this  story  to  tell;  but  when  she 
mentioned  her  folks,  all  that  he  had  wished  to  avoid  —  all 
that  he  felt  he  must  avoid,  came  before  him.  As  he  saw  it 
now,  if  she  called  her  father,  they  would  never  live  together 
again.  He  was  nervous  when  he  anticipated  the  fact. 
He  started,  and  took  on  unconsciously  a  fearsome  expres- 
sion. 

"  Please  don't,  Orlean,"  he  said,  beseechingly. 


380  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Don't  what?"  she  asked,  apprehensive  of  something  she 
did  not  like. 

"  Call  your  father,"  he  said.  He  wanted  to  tell  her  that 
if  she  called  her  father,  it  would  mean  the  end  of  every- 
thing for  them,  but  he  withheld  this. 

"  Now,  I  wish  him  to  know  where  I  am,"  she  said,  pro- 
testingly,  and  arose  from  his  knee.  She  stood  away  from 
where  he  sat  hesitatingly.  In  that  moment,  she  was  not 
aware  that  she  stood  between  duty  and  subservience.  As 
she  saw  it,  she  forgot  from  her  training  that  there  was  a 
duty>  she  only  remembered  that  she  was  obedient.  Obedi- 
ent to  the  father  who  had  reared  her  so  to  be. 

It  was  the  psychological  moment  in  their  union.  Near 
her  the  husband  that  she  had  taken,  regarded  her  uneasily. 
He  had  come  to  her  to  do  the  duty  that  was  his  to  do. 
They  were  estranged  because  of  one  thing,  and  one  thing 
only,  and  that  was  her  father,  the  man  her  husband  would 
never  yield  to.  And  as  she  hesitated  betwen  obedience  to 
one  and  duty  toward  the  other,  her  life,  her  love  and  future 
was  in  the  balance. 

Which? 

"  Orlean,"  she  heard  now,  from  the  lips  of  her  husband. 
"  Listen,  before  you  go  to  the  'phone."  He  became  suddenly 
calm  as  he  said  this.  "  I  married  you  two  years  gone  now, 
for  better  or  for  worse,  and  '  until  death  do  us  part.'  That 
was  the  vow  that  I  took  and  also  you.  I've  done  my  best 
by  you  under  the  circumstances.  I  gave  you  a  home  and 
bed  that  you  left.  I  gave  you  my  love,  and  am  willing  to 
give  you  my  life  if  that  be  necessary.  But,  Orlean,  I  didn't 
contract  to  observe  the  ideas  and  be  subservient  to  the  opin- 
ion of  others.  To  force  me  to  regard  this  is  to  do  me  a 
grave  injustice.  You  cannot  imagine,  appreciate,  maybe, 
how  humiliating  it  is  to  be  placed  in  such  a  position.  I  can- 


"LOVE  YOU  — GOD,  I  HATE  YOU!"       381 

not  explain  it  with  you  standing  impatiently  before  me  as 
you  are.  I  have  come  here  to  try  and  have  you  discuss 
this  matter  with  me  from  a  practical  point  of  view.  Surely, 
having  taken  me  as  your  God-given  mate,  you  owe  me  that. 
You  force  me  to  honor  and  respect  certain  persons  — " 

"  Don't  you,"  she  cried.  "  Don't  you  insinuate  my 
father ! "  She  advanced  toward  him  threateningly  in  her 
excitement,  and  all  sense  of  duty  was  gone.  Only  obedience' 
to  the  one  who  had  made  it  so  remained.  That  she  should 
rally  to  the  support  of  his  adversary,  displaced  his  com- 
posure. He  had  hoped  to  have  her  reason  it  out  with  him, 
and  he  had  prayed  that  he  be  given  a  little  time,  and  then 
all  would  be  well.  He  was  aware  that  she  was  unequal  to  a 
woman's  task.  Not  one  woman  in  a  thousand  he  knew 
would  place  a  father  before  a  husband;  but  his  wife  was 
different.  She  had  been  trained  to  be  devoutly  subservient 
to  her  father.  For  that  reason  he  was  willing  to  be 
patient  —  he  had  been  patient.  But  at  the  same  time  he  had 
suffered  much,  and  her  love  and  obedience  to  his  worst 
enemy  —  even  if  it  was  her  father,  unfitted  him  for  that 
with  which  he  was  now  confronted.  He  was  fast  losing  his 
composure,  likewise  his  patience.  Nothing  in  the  world 
should  stand  between  him  and  his  wife.  He  became  ex- 
cited now,  but  calmed  long  enough  to  say : 

"  Go  ahead,  or  come  to  me.  There  are  two  things  a 
woman  cannot  be  at  the  same  time,"  and  he  waved  his  hand 
toward  her  resolutely.  "A  wife  to  the  man  she  has 
married,  and  a  daughter  to  her  father."  With  this  state- 
ment he  sank  back  into  the  chair  from  which  he  had  partly 
risen.  He  had  said  the  last  statement  with  such  forceful 
logic,  that  it  made  her  stop,  pause  uneasily,  and  then  sud- 
denly she  straightened  and  turning,  went  to  the  telephone. 

But  when  she  called  over  the  wire  to  her  father,  all  the 


382  THE  HOMESTEADER 

--jmposure  that  Jean  Baptiste  ever  had  left  him.  All  the 
suffering  and  agony  that  he  had  experienced  from  the  hand 
of  the  other  asserted  itself.  He  arose  from  the  chair  and 
came  toward  her.  His  eyes  were  bloodshot,  his  attitude  was 
threatening.  She  called  to  her  father,  and  the  words  she 
said  were : 

"  Yes,  papa.  ...  Is  this  you.  .  .  .  Yes.  ...  I  am  at 
Mrs.  Merley's.  .  .  .  And  —  ah  —  papa,"  she  hesitated  and 
her  voice  broke  from  fear.  "Ah  —  papa  —  a  —  Jean  is 
here,  papa.  .  .  .  Yes,  Jean.  He  is  here."  She  was 
trembling  now,  and  the  man  standing  behind  her  saw  it. 
He  saw  her  passing  out  of  his  life  forever,  and  desperation 
overtook  him.  In  that  moment  something  within  him 
seemed  to  snap. 

He  reached  over  her  shoulder  and  grasped  the  receiver 
and  pushed  her  roughly  aside.  The  next  instant  she  was 
protesting  wildly,  while  Mrs.  Merley  was  br  ught  to  the 
front  by  his  loud  voice  screaming  over  the  'phone. 

"Hell,  hello,  you!"  he  cried  savagely.  "Hello,  I  say! 
.  .  .  How  am  I!  My  God,  how  could  I  be  after  what  you 
have  done  to  me,  my  life.  .  .  .  Why  didn't  I  come  to  the 
house?  .  .  .  Why  should  I  come  to  your  house,  when  the 
last  time  I  was  there  I  was  kicked  out,  virtually  kicked  out, 
do  you  hear?  " 

"  You  get  away  from  here ! "  he  heard  in  his  ear,  and 
turned  to  see  his  wife  gone  wild  with  excitement.  Her  eyes 
were  distraught,  her  attitude  was  menacing,  as  she  struggled 
at  his  arm  to  try  and  wrest  the  receiver  from  his  hand.  He 
heard  the  other  saying  something  in  his  ear.  He  did  not 
understand  it,  he  was  too  excited.  Everything  was  in  a 
whirl  around  him.  He  became  conscious  that  he  had 
dropped  the  receiver  after  a  time.  He  felt  himself  in  con- 
tact with  some  one,  and  saw  the  face  of  his  wife.  In  her 


"  LOVE  YOU  —  GOD,  I  HATE  YOU !  "       383 

excitement  she  was  striking  him;  she  was  trying  to  do  him 
injury. 

He  became  alive  to  what  was  going  on,  then.  The  re- 
ceiver hung  suspended ;  he  was  in  a  grapple  with  his  excited 
wife. 

"  You  —  you !  "  she  creamed.  "  You  abuse  my  father, 
my  poor  father !  You  have  abused  him  ever  since  I  knew 
you.  You  will  not  respect  him,  and  then  come  to  ask  me  to 
live  with  you.  You  abuser!  you  devil!  Do  I  love  you? 
God,  /  hate  you ! " 

He  made  no  effort  to  protect  himself.  He  allowed  her  to 
strike  him  at  will  and  with  a  strength,  born  of  excitement, 
she  struck  him  in  his  face,  in  his  eyes,  she  scratched  him,  she 
abused  him  so  furiously  until  gradually  he  began  to  sink. 
He  reached  out  and  caught  her  around  the  waist  as  he  lost 
his  footing  and  fell  to  his  knees.  As  he  lingered  in  this 
position  his  face  was  upturned.  She  struck  him  then  with 
all  the  force  in  her  body.  He  groaned,  as  he  gradually 
loosened  his  hold  upon  her,  and  slowly  sank  to  the  floor. 
And  all  the  while  she  fought  him,  she  punctuated  her  blows 
with  words,  some  abusing  him,  others  in  defense  of  her 
father. 

At  last  he  lay  upon  the  floor,  while  around  her,  Mrs. 
Merley  and  the  other  girl  begged  and  beseeched.  But  she 
was  as  if  gone  insane.  As  he  lay  with  eyes  closed  and  a 
slight  groan  escaping  from  his  lips  at  her  feet,  she  sud- 
denly raised  her  foot  and  kicked  him  viciously  full  in  the 
face.  This  seemed,  then,  to  make  her  more  vicious,  and 
thereupon  she  started  to  jump  upon  him  with  her  feet,  but 
Mrs.  Merley  suddenly  caught  her  about  the  waist  and  drew 
her  away. 

How  long  he  lay  there  he  did  not  know,  but  he  opened  his 
eyes  when  from  the  outside  he  heard  hurried  footsteps.  He 


384  THE  HOMESTEADER 

continued  to  lay  as  he  was,  and  then  somebody  pulled  the 
bell  vigorously.  Mrs.  Merley  went  to  it,  opened  it,  and  let 
some  one  in.  He  looked  up  through  half  closed  eyes  to 
see  the  Reverend  standing  over  him.  In  that  instant  he 
saw  his  wife  dash  past  him  and  fall  into  the  other's  arms. 
He  heard  her  saying  words  of  love,  while  he  was  aware  that 
the  other  pacified  her  with  soft  words.  They  took  no 
notice  of  the  man  at  their  feet. 

And  then  he  saw  them  open  the  door,  while  the  others 
stood  about  in  awe.  While  the  door  was  open  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  street  outside  —  and  of  Glavis  on  the  side- 
walk below. 

The  next  instant  the  door  closed  softly  behind  them,  and 
she  went  out  of  his  life  as  a  wife  forever. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   STRANGE  DREAM 

WHEN  the  others  had  gone,  Jean  Baptiste  rolled 
over  again  upon  the  floor,  and  was  conscious  that 
one  eye  was  closed  and  swollen,  rilled  with  blood 
from  a  wound  inflicted  by  his  wife  just  below  it.     He  rose  to 
a  sitting  posture  presently,  and  looked  around  him.     He  was 
in  the  hall,  and  when  he  looked  through  the  open  door  into 
the  parlor,  he  saw  Mrs.  Merley  stretched  on  the  settee  be- 
fore him  weeping.     He  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  went  to- 
ward her. 

She  looked  up  when  he  approached,  and  dried  her  eyes. 
"  You  spoiled  things,  Jean,"  she  accused,  and  he  noted  the 
disappointment  in  her  voice,  and  also  detected  a  note  of  im- 
patience. 

"  Yes,  I  admit  I  did,  Mrs.  Merley,  and  I'm  sorry  —  for  you." 

"  For  me  ?  "  she  repeated,  not  understanding  his  import. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  wearily.     For  you." 

"  But  —  but  —  why  —  for  me?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh,  "  It  had  to  be  as  it  was.  I 
wanted  her.  But  it  would  have  been  disaster  in  the  end 
on  his  account,  because  I  could  never  have  brought  myself 
to  honor  him,  and  to  have  lived  with  her  I  should  have  been 
forced  to  —  at  least  pretended  to  do  so,  and  that  would  have 
been  worse  still. 

She  was  thoughtfully  silent  then  for  some  time,  then 
she  regarded  him  closely,  and  said  as  if  to  herself : 

"  Well,  I  fear  you  are  right.  Yes,  I  know  you  are  when 
I  recall  how  she  abused  you  a  while  ago.  Gracious!  I 
did  not  know  that  it  was  in  Orlean." 

38s 


386  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Nor  did  I,"  he  said,  his  face  covered  with  his  hands. 

"  He  made  her  that  way  through  the  influence  he  has  ex- 
erted over  her.  Evil  influence.  I  have  a  feeling  that  there 
will  come  a  day  when  that  influence  will  work  the  other 
way,"  she  said  musingly,  "he  will  be  the  victim,  and  the 
punishment  will  be  severe." 

Both  were  silent  for  a  time,  and  nothing  but  the  ticking 
of  the  clock  on  the  mantel  disturbed  the  quiet.  He  pres- 
ently raised  his  head,  and  in  so  doing  uncovered  his  face. 
It  was  dark  and  distorted,  swollen  a  great  deal,  and  one  of 
his  eyes  was  closed.  She  saw  it  then  for  the  first  time. 

"  My  God,  Jean ! "  she  exclaimed,  arising  and  hurrying 
to  him.  "  Your  face  is  swollen  almost  beyond  recognition. 
Why,  my 'dear,  you  are  in  a  dreadful  fix !  "  She  stood  over 
him  scarcely  knowing  just  what  to  do.  Then  she  regained 
her  composure.  She  caught  at  his  arm,  as  she  cried: 

"  Come  with  me,  quick !  "  He  arose  and  followed  her  up- 
stairs and  into  the  bedroom  she  had  prepared  for  him  and 
Orlean.  In  a  corner  there  was  a  little  basin,  and  to  this 
she  led  him.  She  then  had  him  hold  his  face  over  the 
basin  while  she  carefully  bathed  it.  This  done,  she  asked 
him  to  go  to  bed  while  she  went  downstairs,  returning  pres- 
ently with  liniments  and  towels,  and  bathed  his  wounds 
again  and  bandaged  his  face  carefully. 

"  Now,  Jean,"  she  said  kindly,  "  I  will  leave  you.  But 
you  will  do  this  favor  which  I  ask  of  you  ?  " 

He  turned  his  face  toward  her. 

"  Don't  advise  Mr.  Merley  about  what  has  occurred  here 
tonight,"  she  said. 

"  I  understand,"  he  replied  quietly.  Thereupon  she  left 
him  to  himself. 

At  the  Vernon  Avenue  home  of  the  McCarthys,  the 
house  was  in  an  orgy  of  excitement.  When  the  Reverend 


A  STRANGE  DREAM  387 

had  been  advised  regarding  his  son-in-law's  presence  in  the 
city,  he  recalled  the  seance  he  had  experienced  the  night 
before.  When  the  women  came,  he  was  preparing  to  go 
to  the  west  side  for  his  daily  visit  with  Mrs.  Pruitt.  But 
upon  this  advice,  he  desisted,  and  decided  to  remain  home. 

When  the  mongers  had  taken  their  gossip  from  his  pres- 
ence, he  fell  into  deep  thought.  For  the  first  time  since  he 
had  precipitated  the  trouble,  he  saw  the  situation  clearly. 
He  was  aware  that  his  act  by  this  time,  had  helped  nobody, 
had  made  no  one  happy  or  satisfied — not  even  himself. 
Almost  he  agreed  with  himself  then,  that  he  had  miscalcu- 
lated; Jean  Baptiste  was  willing  apparently,  to  forego  his 
wife's  loss  and  the  loss  of  her  homestead,  before  he  would 
do  as  the  Elder  had  planned  and  estimated  he  would.  His 
conscience  was  disturbed.  He  recalled  the  unpleasant 
nights  he  had  endured  in  the  last  few  months.  He  recalled 
that  while  Orlean  always  pretended  to  him  that  she  was 
satisfied,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  saw  that  it  was 
due  to  the  training,  the  subservience  to  his  will,  and  not  to 
her  own  convictions. 

He  arose  from  his  seat  and  walked  the  floor  in  medita- 
tion. Habit,  however,  had  become  such  a  force  with  him, 
that  he  could  hardly  resist  the  impulse  to  commit  some 
action ;  to  rush  to  Mrs.  Merley's  and  make  himself  con- 
spicuous. He  struggled  between  impulse  and  conscience, 
and  neither  won  fully.  After  an  hour,  however,  he  reached 
this  decision :  He  would  not  go  to  or  call  up  Mrs.  Merley. 
He  would  just  leave  it  to  them  to  solve,  and  if  they  should 
finally  reach  some  agreement  between  themselves,  he  would 
not  stand  in  the  way.  When  he  had  reached  this  con- 
clusion, he  went  into  the  street,  and  was  surprised  at  the 
relief  he  felt.  Not  for  months  had  he  enjoyed  a  walk  as 
much  as  he  did  that  one. 


388  THE  HOMESTEADER 

But  while  Newton  Justine  McCarthy  had  struggled  with 
his  conscience,  and  at  last  found  solace  in  admitting  at  this 
late  hour  to  what  he  should  have  done  two  years  before,  he 
had  failed  to  reckon  with  other  features  that  asserted  them- 
selves later.  He  had  not  estimated  that  if  Jean  Baptiste 
sought  his  wife  secretly,  it  must  have  been  because  he  wished 
to  avoid  him.  He  failed  to  see  that  this  man  had  suffered 
bitterly  through  his  evil  machinations.  He  failed,  more- 
over, to  appreciate  that  his  training  of  Orlean  to  the  sub- 
servient attitude,  would  prevent  her  from  returning  to  her 
husband  or  reaching  any  agreement  with  him  until  she  had 
first  ascertained  that  such  would  be  agreeable  to  her  father. 
Had  he  so  reckoned  the  scene  just  related  might  not  have 
occurred. 

It  was  while  they  were  sitting  at  supper  that  the 
telephone  rang.  When  the  conversation  ensued,  the  Rev- 
erend sought  not  only  to  promulgate  good  will  by  leaving 
it  to  Jean  Baptiste,  but  he  thought  also  to  encourage  him 
by  inviting  him  to  the  house,  and  in  this  he  meant  well. 
But  behind  him  stood  Ethel.  She  caught  the  gist  of  excite- 
ment and  instantly  began  to  scream. 

"  Get  Orlean,  go  get  my  sister !  Don't  let  that  man  have 
her,  owee ! "  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  she  yelled,  and  Glavis 
and  her  mother  had  to  hold  her.  Some  friends  were  having 
dinner  with  them,  and  they  now  stood  toward  the  rear  un- 
certain whether  to  leave  or  remain,  and  heard  all  that  passed. 
The  Reverend  was  laboring  frantically  to  get  an  answer  over 
the  'phone,  and  it  was  at  this  moment  that  Orlean  had  gone 
frantic  and  was  abusing  her  husband. 

In  the  excitement,  Ethel  kept  up  her  tirade  at  the  top  of 
her  voice,  and  in  the  end,  the  Reverend,  followed  by  Glavis, 
had  gone  to  Mrs.  Merley's. 


A  STRANGE  DREAM  389 

They  had  now  returned,  and  Ethel  was  pacified.  The 
visitors  had  departed  to  spread  the  gossip,  and  all  but  Ethel 
was  downcast.  Orlean,  in  unspoken  remorse,  had  retired; 
while  the  Reverend,  fully  conscious  at  last  of  what  his  inter- 
position had  brought,  was  regretful,  but  not  openly.  And 
the  others,  not  knowing  that  he  had  that  day  repented,  sat 
at  their  distance  and  tried  to  form  no  conclusion. 

"  It  is  over  —  all  over,"  cried  Orlean  now  in  the  bed. 
"  And  as  I  have  done  all  my  life,  I  have  failed  at  the  most 
crucial  moment.  Oh,  merciful  God,  what  can  you  do  with 
a  weak  woman  like  I!  It  has  been  I  all  along  who  has 
made  misery  for  myself,  for  him,  and  for  all  those  near  me ! 
I!  I!  //  That  I  could  have  cultivated  the  strength  of  my 
conviction ;  that  I  could  have  been  the  woman  he  wanted  me 
to  be.  Out  there  he  tried  to  make  me  one;  he  sought  in 
every  way  he  knew  how.  But  a  weakling  I  would  remain ! 
And  because  I  have  sought  to  please  others  and  abuse  him 
in  doing  so,  I  have  brought  everybody  to  the  ditch  of  misery 
and  despair."  She  cried  for  a  long  time,  but  her  mind  was 
afire.  All  that  her  weakness  and  subservience  had  caused, 
continued,  and  at  last  the  event  of  the  night. 

"And  what  did  I  do  to  him?"  she  said  now,  rising  in 
the  bed.  "  I  recall  that  he  came  to  the  telephone.  He  stood 
listening  to  what  I  was  saying,  and  I  recall  that  when  I 
turned  slightly  and  saw  his  face,  it  was  terrible!  Then  I 
saw  him  suddenly  snatch  the  receiver  from  my  hand,  and  I 
heard  him  talking  to  papa.  He  was  terribly  excited,  and 
I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  on  his  face.  I  cannot 
clearly  remember  what  followed.  I  recall,  however,  that  I 
struggled  with  him ;  that  I  struck  him  everywhere  I  could ; 
that  I  scratched  his  face.  .  .  .  And,  oh,  my  God,  I  recall 
what  passed  then !  "  She  suddenly  sank  back  upon  the  pil- 


390  THE  HOMESTEADER 

low  and  gave  up  to  bitter  anguish,  when  she  recalled  what 
had  followed.  But  the  excitement  was  too  great  for  her 
to  lay  inert.  She  rose  again  upon  her  elbow,  and  looked 
before  her  into  the  darkness  of  the  room  as  she  slowly  re- 
peated half  aloud  what  had  followed. 

"  Yes,  I  recall.  He  made  no  resistance.  He  did  not  de- 
fend himself,  but  allowed  me  to  strike  him  at  will.  And 
under  the  fusillade  of  blows,  I  recall  that  he  sank  slowly  to 
his  knees  —  sank  there  with  his  arms  about  me,  and  I  strik- 
ing him  with  all  the  strength  in  my  body.  Upon  his  knees 
then,  he  lingered,  while  I  rained  blow  after  blow  upon  his 
upturned  face.  And  now  I  can  recall  that  his  eyes  closed, 
and  from  his  lips  I  caught  a  sigh,  and  then  he  rolled  to  the 
floor.  And,  here,  oh,  Lord,  I  added  what  will  follow  me 
throughout  my  life  and  never  again  give  me  peace. 

"  While  he  lay  there  upon  the  floor,  with  his  eyes  closed 
before  me,  I  kicked  him  viciously  full  in  the  face!  Bui! 
even  then  he  did  not  resist,  but  only  groaned  wearily.  Mer- 
ciful Jesus!  Nor  did  I  stop  there!  I  jumped  on  his  face 
with  my  feet,  and  then  I  recall  that  some  one  caught  me  and 
saved  me  from  further  madness!"  She  was  exhausted 
then,  and  lay  without  words  for  a  long  time.  Almost  in  a 
state  of  coma,  she  bordered,  and  while  so,  she  fell  into  a 
strange  sleep.  The  night  wore  on,  and  the  clock  down- 
stairs was  striking  the  hour  of  two  when  she  suddenly  awak- 
ened. She  sat  straight  up  in  bed,  and  jerked  her  hands  to 
her  head,  and  screamed  long  and  terribly.  The  household 
was  awakened,  and  came  hurrying  to  where  she  lay.  But 
in  the  meantime  she  continued  to  scream  loudly,  at  the  top 
of  her  voice.  And  all  the  while,  perspiration  flowed  from 
her  body.  It  was  nigh  onto  four  o'clock  before  they  suc- 
ceeded in  quieting  her,  and  when  they  had  done  so  she  lay 
back  again  upon  the  pillow  with  a  groan,  and  the  family 


A  STRANGE  DREAM 


391 


went  back  to  their  beds  to  wonder  what  had  come  over  her. 
All  felt  strangely  as  if  something  evil  had  crept  into  their 
lives,  and  their  excitement  was  great.  All  but  Ethel,  who, 
in  her  evil  way,  was  delighted,  and  laughed  gleefully  when 
she  had  returned  to  bed. 

"  Laugh  on,  Ethel,  you  evil  woman !  "  said  Glavis  at  her 
side.  "  Evil  has  this  night  come  into  our  lives.  It  wasn't 
right  in  the  beginning ;  it  isn't  right  now,  nor  was  last  night. 
Oh,  I  have  never  wanted  to  see  this  go  along  as  it  has.  Be- 
cause your  father  has  trained  Orlean  to  obey  and  subserve 
to  his  will,  he  has  done  something  to  her,  and  she  has  be- 
come a  demon  instead  of  a  weakling.  Last  night  I  saw 
Jean  Baptiste  lying  prone  upon  the  floor,  and  knew  that  she 
had  beaten  him  down  to  it,  and  he  had  not  resisted.  She 
told  me  as  we  came  home  what  she  had  done,  but  was  not 
aware  that  she  was  telling  me.  Nothing  good  can  come  of 
evil,  and  it  is  evil  that  we  have  practiced  toward  that  man. 
He  is  through  now,  and  never  again  will  he  make  effort  to 
g-et  her  to  live  with  him.  But  just  so  sure  as  she  Has  abused 
him,  just  so  sure  will  she  do  injury  to  those  who  have 
brought  this  about."  And  with  this  he  turned  on  his  side 
and  feigned  sleep. 

Alone  Orlean  lay  trying  vainly  to  forget  something  — 
something  that  stood  like  a  spectre  before  her  eyes.  But 
she  could  not  forget  it,  nor  did  she  ever  forget  it.  It  had 
come,  and  it  was  inevitable.  She  had  seen  it  in  her  sleep. 
It  had  all  been  so  clear,  and  when  she  had  awakened  and 
screamed  so  long,  she  knew,  then  that  it  must  in  time  be  so. 
She  would  never  forget  it ;  but  realizing  its  gravity,  she  de- 
cided thereupon  never  to  tell  it  —  the  dream  —  to  anybody. 

The  sun  shone  and  the  birds  sang,  and  the  day  was  beau- 
tiful without  when  she  at  last  fell  asleep  again. 


EPOCH  THE  FOURTH 


EPOCH  THE  FOURTH 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  DROUGHT 

JEAN   BAPTISTE   jumped    from   the  bed  and   went 
quickly  to  where  his  trousers  hung  on  a  chair,  and 
went  through  the  pockets  hurriedly.     He   laid   them 
down  when  through,  and  got  his  breath  slowly  when  he  had 
done  so,  and  the  perspiration  stood  out  on  his  forehead  as 
he  concluded  that  he  had  been  robbed. 

After  a  time  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  ap- 
peared puzzled.  He  was  positive  he  had  seen  some  one 
enter  the  room,  go  to  the  chair,  and  take  the  money  from  his 
pockets.  It  was  rather  singular,  however,  he  now  thought ; 
for  if  such  had  happened,  and  he  had  seen  it,  then  why  had 
he  not  stopped  the  robber?  He  was  deeply  puzzled.  He 
had  seen  the  act  committed,  he  felt  sure  but  had  made  no 
effort  whatever  to  stop  the  thief.  He  scratched  his  head  in 
vexation,  sat  down,  and  as  he  did  so,  saw  that  his  coat  hung 
also  upon  the  chair.  Absently  his  hands  wandered  through 
the  pockets,  and  found  his  purse  and  the  money  in  an  out- 
side pocket. 

He  was  awake  then,  and  went  to  the  basin,  removed  the 
bandages,  and  bathed  his  face.  The  swelling  had  gone 
down  considerably,  but  the  injured  eye  was  dark.  He 
realized  then,  that  nobody  had  entered  the  room,  for  the  door 
was  locked  with  the  key  inside;  but  he  couldn't  recall  hav- 
ing his  money  in  his  coat  pocket.  He  was  awake  at  last  to 
the  fact  that  it  had  been  a  dream. 

395 


396  THE  HOMESTEADER 

When  he  had  bathed  and  dressed,  he  slipped  quietly  down 
the  stairs,  and  into  the  street,  and  found  his  way  to  the 
Thirty-fifth  Street  "  L."  station.  He  had  no  plans.  He 
considered  that  his  relations  with  his  wife  were  at  an  end, 
and  from  his  mind  he  dismissed  this  in  so  far  as  it  was 
possible  —  and  as  far  as  future  plans  were  concerned.  But 
since  he  had  made  no  plans,  whatever  in  the  event  of  failure, 
and  since  failure  had  come,  he  was  undecided  where  he  was 
going  or  what  he  would  do  at  once. 

He  decided  not  to  return  home  directly ;  he  wanted  to  go 
somewhere,  but  did  not  care  to  stay  in  Chicago.  He  took  the 
train  that  was  going  down-town,  and  when  he  reached  the 
Twelfth  Street  station,  suddenly  decided  to  go  to  Southern 
Illinois,  and  visit  the  girl  Jessie,  with  whom  he  had  been 
corresponding. 

While  walking  toward  the  Illinois  Central  Station,  he 
purchased  a  paper,  and  was  cheered  to  see  that  his  candi- 
date had  carried  the  state  in  the  preferential  primary  by  an 
overwhelming  majority.  The  train  he  was  to  take  left  at 
nine- forty,  and  he  was  able  to  forget  his  grief  in  the  hour 
and  a  half  he  waited,  by  reading  all  the  details  of  the 
election. 

The  journey  three  hundred  miles  south  was  uneventful, 
but  when  he  arrived  at  Carbondale,  the  train  that  woukl 
have  taken  him  to  where  he  was  going  had  left,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  spend  the  night  there.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  caught  an  early  train  and  reached  the  town  in  which 
she  lived,  his  first  visit  there  since  he  met  the  one  he  had 
married. 

He  found  Jessie,  and  her  kind  sympathy,  served  to  re- 
vive in  a  measure  his  usual  composure,  and  when  he  left 
a  few  days  later,  he  was  much  stronger  emotionally  than 
he  had  been  for  a  year,  and  on  his  return  West,  determined 


THE  DROUGHT  397 

to  try  to  regain  his  fortunes  that  had  been  gradually  slip- 
ping from  him  in  the  past  two  years. 

When  he  had  digested  the  state  of  his  affairs  at  home  he 
had  a  new  problem  to  face.  Decidedly  he  was  almost  "  in 
bad."  For  a  time  his  interest  had  been  paid  by  his  bankers ; 
but  they  had  left  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  insurance  com- 
panies who  held  the  first  mortgages.  And  these  had  been 
protesting  and  had  lately  threatened  foreclosure.  Even  so, 
and  if  the  crops  be  good,  he  was  confident  he  could  make  it. 
But  before  he  could  even  sow  that  year's  crop,  he  would 
have  to  see  a  certain  banker  who  lived  in  Nebraska.  This 
man  was  represented  by  a  son  who  conducted  the  bank  he 
controlled  at  Gregory,  and  the  son  had  issued  an  ultimatum, 
and  if  Baptiste  would  keep  his  stock  that  was  mortgaged 
to  the  bank  as  security,  he  realized  that  it  was  best  to  see 
the  boy's  father,  since  the  son  had  made  plain  his  stand. 

The  banker  was  out  of  town  when  he  arrived,  and  to  save 
time,  Baptiste  judged  that  it  would  be  best  to  go  to  Sioux 
City,  where  he  could  meet  the  banker  on  his  way  home, 
and  on  the  way  from  Sioux  City  to  the  little  town  where  the 
banker  made  his  home,  he  could  consult  with  him,  and  get 
an  extension.  In  this  he  was  successful,  and  returned  home 
with  an  assurance  that  he  would  be  given  until  fall  to  make 
good  —  but  in  truth,  until  fall  to  get  ready. 

To  work  he  went  with  a  sort  of  fleeting  hope.  The  spring 
had  been  good.  But  he  was  apprehensive  that  the  summer 
would  be  dry  as  the  last,  and  it  was  with  misgivings  that  he 
lived  through  the  days  and  weeks  that  followed.  Seed 
wheat  and  oats  had  been  furnished  to  the  settlers  in  Tripp 
County  that  spring  by  the  county  commissioners,  and  he  had 
sowed  a  portion  of  his  land  with  it. 

Conditions  in  the  new  country  had  gone  from  bad  to 
worse,  and  if  the  season  should  experience  another  drought, 


398  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  worst  was  come.  Already  there  were  a  few  foreclosures 
in  process,  and  excitement  ran  high.  The  country  was 
financially  embarrassed.  To  secure  money  now  was  almost 
impossible.  Any  number  of  farms  were  for  sale,  but  buyers 
there  were  none. 

A  local  shower  fell  over  part  of  the  country  in  the  last 
days  of  May,  wetting  the  ground  perhaps  an  inch  deep, 
and  then  hot  winds  began  with  the  first  day  of  June.  For 
thirty  days  following,  not  a  drop  of  rain  fell  on  the  earth. 
The  heat  became  so  intense  that  breathing  was  made  diffi- 
cult, and  when  the  fourth  of  July  arrived,  not  a  kernel  of 
corn  that  had  been  planted  that  spring,  had  sprouted.  The 
small  grain  crops  had  been  burned  to  a  crisp,  and  disaster 
hung  over  the  land.  Everywhere  there  was  a  panic.  From 
the  West,  people  who  had  gone  there  three  and  four  years 
before  were  returning  panic  stricken;  the  stock  they  were 
driving  —  when  they  drove  —  were  hollow  and  gaunt  and 
thin.  Going  hither  the  years  before  they  had  presented 
the  type  of  aggressive  pioneers.  But  now  they  were  re- 
turning a  tired,  gaunt,  defeated  army.  All  hopes,  all  cour- 
age, all  manhood  gone,  they  presented  a  discouraging 
aspect. 

From  Canada  on  the  north,  to  Texas  on  the  south,  the 
hot  winds  had  laid  the  land  seemingly  bare.  Everywhere 
cattle  were  being  sold  for  a  trifle,  as  there  was  no  grass 
upon  which  they  could  feed. 

To  the  north  and  the  south,  the  east  and  the  west  in  the 
country  of  our  story,  ruin  was  in  the  wake.  Foreclosures 
became  the  order,  and  suits  were  minute  affairs.  From 
early  morn  to  early  morn  again,  the  hot  winds  continued, 
and  the  air  was  surcharged  with  the  smell  of  burning  plants. 

And  with  the  hero  of  our  story,  he  saw  his  hopes  sink 
with  the  disaster  that  was  around  him ;  he  saw  his  holdings 


THE  DROUGHT  399 

gradually  slipping  from  him,  and  after  some  time  became 
resigned  to  the  inevitable. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  another  change  came  into  his  life, 
hence  another  epoch  in  the  unusual  life  was  his. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   FORECLOSURE 

EARLY  in  July  when  the  drought  had  burned  the 
crops  to  a  crisp,  and  plant  life  was  beyond  redemp- 
tion, the  Banks,  Trust  and  Insurance  Companies  hold- 
ing notes  secured  by  mortgages  against  the  land  and  stock 
of  Jean  Baptiste  began  proceedings  for  a  foreclosure.  He 
read  with  the  cold  perspiration  upon  his  forehead  the 
notices  that  appeared  in  the  papers.  Attachments  were 
filed  against  all  he  personally  possessed  in  Gregory  County, 
as  well  as  in  Tripp  County.  The  fact  that  he  had  not  had 
his  sister's  homestead  transferred  to  him,  and  that  she  had 
just  made  proof  that  summer,  was  a  relief  to  him  now,  and 
with  a  sigh  he  laid  down  the  newspapers  containing  the 
notices. 

It  was  no  surprise  since  he  had  been  threatened  with  such 
for  many  months,  he  regarded  it  therefore  as  unavoidable. 
But  when  the  grim  reality  of  the  situation  dawned  upon  him, 
it  weakened  him.  Never  had  he  dreamed  that  it  would  come 
to  this.  He  took  mental  inventory  of  his  possessions  and 
what  he  could  lay  claim  to,  and  he  happened  to  think  about 
his  wife's  homestead.  On  this  he  had  made  his  home  since 
her  departure,  and  no  trouble  had  been  given  him.  While 
the  local  land  office  had  rendered  a  decision  in  her  favor; 
the  contestee  had  taken  an  appeal  to  the  general  land  office 
and  the  commissioner  and  upon  being  represented  by  an 
attorney,  the  local  land  office's  decision  had  been  reversed. 
It  had  been  up  to  him  then  to  go  further,  which  he  had 

400 


THE  FORECLOSURE  401 

done,  by  appealing  the  case  to  the  highest  office  in  the  land 
department,  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  and  here  it  rested. 
To  do  this,  he  had  agreed  to  pay  the  attorney  $300  to  win, 
and  one  hundred  dollars  in  the  event  he  should  not,  the 
latter  amount  he  had  paid,  and  so  the  case  stood.  He  had 
formulated  no  plans  regarding  it  beyond  this  as  to  how  he 
would  continue  to  hold  it,  since  now  it  was  a  settled  fact  in 
his  mind  that  he  and  the  woman  he  had  married  were 
parted  forever. 

But  poverty  accompanied  by  crop  failures  for  three  years 
was  a  general  and  accepted  thing  now.  And  the  fact  that 
he  was  being  foreclosed,  occasioned  no  comment,  and  at 
least  he  could  continue  on  without  intensely  feeling,  the  at- 
tendant disgrace. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  in  life  that  a  new  thought  came 
to  Jean  Baptiste.  In  all  his  life  he  had  been  a  thinker,  a 
practical  thinker  —  a  prolific  thinker.  Moreover,  a  great 
reader  into  the  bargain.  So  the  thought  that  struck  him 
now,  was  writing.  Perhaps  he  could  write.  If  so  then 
what  would  he  write?  So  in  the  days  that  followed,  grad- 
ually a  plot  formed  in  his  mind,  and  when  he  had  decided, 
he  chose  that  he  could  write  his  own  story  —  his  life  of  hell, 
the  work  of  an  evil  power ! 

Of  writing  he  knew  little  and  the  art  of  composition 
appeared  very  difficult.  But  of  thought,  this  he  had  a 
plenty.  Well,  after  all  that  was  the  most  essential.  If  one 
has  thoughts  to  express,  it  is  possible  to  learn  very  soon  some 
method  of  construction.  So  after  some  weeks  of  specula- 
tion, he  bought  himself  a  tablet,  some  pencils  and  took  up  the 
art  of  writing. 

He  found  no  difficulty  in  saying  something.  The  first  day 
he  wrote  ten  thousand  words.  The  next  day  he  reversed 
the  tablet  and  wrote  ten  thousand  more.  In  the  next  two 


402  THE  HOMESTEADER 

days  he  re-wrote  the  twenty  thousand,  and  on  the  fifth  day 
he  tore  it  into  shreds  and  threw  it  to  the  winds. 

He  had  raised  a  little  wheat  and  when  the  foreclosures 
had  been  completed  and  the  wheat  had  been  threshed  he 
sowed  a  large  portion  of  the  seed  back  into  the  ground  on 
three  hunured  acres  of  ground  upon  which  the  crop  that 
year  had  failed.  According  to  the  law  of  the  state,  when  a 
foreclosure  is  completed,  the  party  of  the  first  part  may 
redeem  the  land  within  one  year  from  the  date  of  the  fore- 
closure. Or,  better  still,  he  may  pay  the  interest,  and  taxes 
at  the  end  of  one  year  from  the  date  of  the  foreclosure,  and 
have  still  another  year  in  which  to  redeem  the  land.  So 
it  is  to  be  seen  that  if  Jean  Baptiste  could  pay  his  interest 
and  taxes  one  year  from  this  time,  he  would  have  two  years 
in  all  to  redeem  his  lost  fortunes.  Hence,  in  seeding  a  large 
acreage  of  wheat,  he  hoped  for  the  best.  The  years,  how- 
ever, had  been  too  adverse  to  now  expect  any  returns  when 
a  crop  was  sown  and  it  had  been  merely  good  fortune  that 
he  happened  to  secure  the  means  with  which  to  sow  an- 
other, for  credit  there  was  for  few  any  more. 

When  this  was  done,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  listen 
to  the  wind  that  blew  dry  still,  although  the  protracted 
drought  had  been  broken  by  light  autumn  rains.  So  took 
he  up  his  pencil  and  fell  to  the  task  of  writing  again. 
Through  the  beautiful,  windy  autumn  days,  he  labored  at 
his  difficult  task,  the  task  of  telling  a  story.  The  greatest 
difficulty  he  encountered  was  that  he  thought  faster  than 
he  could  write.  Therefore  he  often  broke  off  right  in 
the  middle  of  a  sentence  to  relate  an  incident  that  would 
occur  to  him  to  tell  of  something  else.  But  at  last  he  had 
written  something  that  could  be  termed  a  story.  He  took 
what  appeared  to  him  to  be  quite  sufficient  for  a  book  to  a 
friend  who  had  voiced  an  interest  in  his  undertaking.  In 


THE  FORECLOSURE  403 

fact,  although  he  had  said  nothing  about  it,  the  news  had 
spread  that  he  was  writing  a  story  of  the  country  and  every- 
body became  curious. 

Of  course  they  were  not  aware  of  his  limited  knowledge 
of  the  art  of  composition.  To  them,  a  patriotic,  boosting 
people  —  despite  the  ravages  of  drought  which  had  swept 
the  country,  this  was  a  new  kind  of  boost, —  a  subtle  method 
of  advertising  the  country.  So  everybody  began  looking 
for  the  appearance  of  his  story  in  all  the  leading  magazines. 
The  fact  helped  the  newsdealers  considerably.  But  to  re- 
turn to  Jean  Baptiste  and  the  story  he  was  writing. 

The  friend  was  baffled  when  he  saw  so  many  tablets  and 
such  writing.  He  pretended  to  be  too  busy,  at  the  time  to 
consider  it,  and  sent  him  to  another.  But  it  was  a  long 
time  before  he  found  any  one  who  was  willing  to  attempt 
to  rearrange  his  scribbled  thoughts.  But  a  lawyer  who 
needed  the  wherewithal  finally  condescended  to  risk  the 
task,  and  into  it  he  plunged.  He  staggered  along  with  much 
difficulty  and  managed  to  complete  half  of  it  by  Christmas. 
The  remainder  was  corrected  by  a  woman  who  proved  even 
more  efficient  than  the  lawyer,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
she  was  not  as  well  trained.  Besides,  Jean  Baptiste  was  of 
quick  wit,  and  he  soon  saw  where  he  was  most  largely  in 
error,  so  he  was  very  helpful  in  reconstructing  the  plot,  and 
early  in  the  next  year,  he  had  some  sort  of  story  to  send 
the  rounds  of  the  publishers. 

And  here  was  the  next  great  problem.  He  had,  while 
writing,  and  before,  read  of  the  difficulties  in  getting  a 
manuscript  accepted  for  publication.  But,  like  most  writers 
in  putting  forth  their  first  literary  efforts,  he  was  of  the 
opinion  that  what  he  had  written  was  so  different  from  the 
usual  line  of  literature  offered  the  publishers,  that  it  must 
therefore  receive  preference  over  all. 


404  THE  HOMESTEADER 

So  with  its  completion,  he  wrapped  it  carefully,  and  sent 
it  to  a  Chicago  publisher,  while  he  sighed  with  relief. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  he  heard  from  it,  but  in  a 
few  days  he  received  a  letter,  stating  that  his  manuscript 
had  been  received,  and  would  be  carefully  examined,  and 
also  thanking  him  for  sending  it  to  them. 

•Well,  that  sounded  very  encouraging,  he  thought,  so  he 
took  hope  anew  that  it  would  be  accepted. 

In  the  meantime  he  was  questioned  daily  as  to  when  and 
where  it  would  appear.  He  was  mentioned  in  the  local 
newspapers,  and  much  speculation  was  the  issue.  Many  in- 
quired if  he  had  featured  them  in  the  story,  and  were  cheered 
if  he  said  that  he  had,  while  others  showed  their  disappoint- 
ment when  advised  that  they  had  not  been  mentioned.  But 
with  one  and  all,  there  was  shown  him  deep  appreciation  of 
his  literary  effort. 

So  anxious  did  he  become  to  receive  their  "  decision " 
that  as  the  days  passed  and  he  waited  patiently,  he  finally 
went  to  town  to  board  until  he  could  receive  a  reply.  And 
as  time  passed,  he  became  more  and  more  nervous.  At  last 
his  anxiety  reached  a  point  where  he  was  positive  that  if 
he  received  an  adverse  decision,  it  would  surely  kill  him. 
Therefore  he  would  entertain  no  possibility  of  a  rejection. 
It  must  be  accepted,  and  that  was  final.  Added  to  this,  he 
took  note  of  all  the  publicity  he  had  been  accorded  with  re- 
gard to  the  same.  How  would  he  be  able  to  face  these 
friends  if  they  failed  to  accept  the  book?  Tell  them  that 
it  had  been  rejected  as  unavailable?  This  fact  worried  him 
considerably,  and  made  him  persist  in  his  own  mind  that  the 
company  would  accept  it. 

Some  of  his  less  practical  creditors  extended  his  obliga- 
tion anticipating  that  his  work  would  net  him  the  necessary 
funds  for  settlement  —  the  question  of  acceptance  they  did 


THE  FORECLOSURE 


405 


not  know  enough  about  to  consider.  So  it  went,  the  time 
passed,  and  he  could  scarcely  wait  until  the  stage  reached 
the  little  town  where  he  now  received  his  mail.  He  was 
never  later  than  the  second  at  the  postoffice  window.  He 
had  read  in  Jack  London's  Martin  Eden  that  an  accept- 
ance meant  a  long  thin  envelope.  Well,  that  was  the  kind 
he  watched  for  —  but  of  course,  he  estimated,  it  was  possible 
for  it  to  come  in  another  form  of  envelope,  so  he  wouldn't 
take  that  too  seriously.  Still,  if  such  an  envelope  should 
be  handed  him,  he  would  breathe  easier  until  it  was  opened. 

And  then  one  day  the  letter  came.  The  Postmaster, 
who  knew  everybody's  business,  regarded  the  publishers' 
name  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  and  said: 

"  There  she  is !     Now  read  it  aloud !  " 

Baptiste  muttered  something  about  that  not  being  the 
one,  and  got  out  of  the  office.  His  heart  was  pounding  like 
a  trip  hammer ;  for,  while  he  had  concluded  that  a  long  thin 
envelope  would  not  necessarily  mean  an  acceptance,  his  was 
a  short  one,  and  he  was  greatly  excited. 

He  went  blindly  down  the  street,  turned  at  the  corner 
and  sought  a  quiet  place,  a  livery  barn.  Herein  he  found 
an  empty  stall  that  was  dark  enough  not  to  be  seen,  and  still 
afforded  sufficient  light- to  read  in.  He  nervously  held  the 
letter  for  some  minutes  afraid  to  open  and  read  the  con- 
tents, and  tried  to  stop  the  violent  beating  of  his  heart. 
At  last,  with  forced  courage,  he  broke  the  seal,  drew  the 
letter  forth  and  read: 

"  Mr.  Jean  Baptiste, 
"DEAR  SIR: 

"  As  per  our  statement  of  some  time  ago,  regarding  the 
manuscript  you  were  so  kind  as  to  send  us,  beg  to  advise 
that  the  same  has  been  carefully  examined,  and  we  regret 
to  state  has  been  found  unavailable  for  our  needs.  We  are 


4o6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

therefore   returning   the   same   to   you   today   by   express. 
"  Regretting  that  we  cannot  write  you  more  favorably, 
but  thanking  you  for  bringing  this  to  our  attention,  believe 
us  to  be, 

"  Cordially  and  sincerely  yours, 

"  A.  C.  MCGRAW  &  Co." 

He  gazed  before  him  at  nothing  for  some  minutes.  He 
was  trying  to  believe  he  had  read  awrong.  So  he  read  it 
again.  No,  it  read  just  the  same  as  it  had  before.  It  was 
done;  his  last  opportunity  for  redemption  seemed  to  be 
gone.  He  turned  and  staggered  from  the  barn  and  went 
blindly  up  the  street.  At  the  corner  he  met  the  deputy  sher- 
iff, who  approached  him  jovially,  and  then  gave  him  another 
shock  when  he  said: 

"  I've  got  a  writ  here,  Baptiste,  and  will  be  glad  to  have 
you  tell  me  where  this  stuff  of  yours  is  so  I  can  go  and 
get  it." 

He  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead  then,  and  began  think- 
ing. He  had  to  do  something,  for  although  all  his  land  had 
been  foreclosed  on,  he  had  two  years  to  redeem  the  same. 
But  this  writ  —  well,  the  man  was  there  to  take  the  stock, 
then! 


CHAPTER  III 

IRENE  GREY 

MEN  of  the  type  of  Jean  Baptiste  don't  waver  and 
despair  regardless  as  to  how  discouraged  they 
may  at  times,  under  adverse  circumstances,  be- 
come. When  he  was  confronted  with  the  law  with  the 
papers  to  take  from  him  the  stock  with  which  to  seed  his 
crop,  his  mental  faculties  became  busy,  and  in  the  course  of 
two  hours  he  had  been  granted  an  extension  on  the  note 
and  the  deputy  sheriff  had  returned  to  Winner  as  he  had 
come,  empty  handed. 

But  what  was  he  to  do !  He  had  no  money  and  no  credit. 
He  had  the  land  in  Tripp  County  that  was  broken  into  win- 
ter wheat,  while  that  in  the  next  county  east  was  rented. 
He  could,  of  course,  rent  some  more  land  and  put  it  to 
crop;  but  he  was  for  the  present  through  with  any  more 
large  crops  until  the  seasons  became  more  normal.  So 
he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  engage  himself  for  the  months  that 
were  coming.  He  still  lived  on  his  wife's  homestead,  and 
had  no  plans  and  nowhere  else  to  live.  In  these  days  he 
found  reading  a  great  diversion.  He  simply  devoured 
books,  studying  every  detail  of  construction,  and  learning 
a  great  deal  as  to  style  and  effect. 

Then  he  tried  writing  short  stories,  but  like  the  book 
manuscript,  they  always  came  back.  He  concluded  after  a 
time  that  it  was  a  waste  of  postage  to  send  them  around; 
that  in  truth  they  were  not  read  —  and  again,  that  there 
was  no  fortune  in  writers'  royalties  always,  anyhow. 

He  was  possessed  with  a  business  turn  of  mind,  and  one 

407 


4o8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

day  he  met  a  man  who  told  him  that  it  was  possible  for 
him  to  have  his  book  printed  and  be  his  own  publisher. 
That  sounded  very  good  —  anything  sounded  good  in  these 
dark  days  in  the  life  of  Jean  Baptiste.  This  was  a  splendid 
idea.  But  it  was  some  time  before  he  was  able  to  find  the 
proper  persons  with  whom  to  take  this  up.  But,  he  finally 
secured  the  address  of  a  company  who  would  manufacture 
a  book  to  exceed  300  pages  for  fifty  cents  per  book.  Al- 
though this  was  the  most  encouraging  thing  he  had  encoun- 
tered in  his  literary  effort,  the  price  seemed  very  high  in  view 
of  what  he  had  been  told.  He  had  planned  that  it  could 
be  made  for  much  less.  However  he  decided  to  consider  it. 

Now  Jean  Baptiste  had  less  means  at  hand  than  he  had 
ever  had  in  his  life.  Not  a  dollar  did  he  possess  —  not 
even  did  he  have  a  suit  of  clothes  any  more,  and  wore 
every  day  his  corduroys.  He  owed  the  promoters  of  the 
old  townsite  of  Dallas  more  than  he  was  likely  to  pay  very 
soon,  but  they  still  were  his  friends.  But  to  get  to  Dallas, 
fifty  miles  away,  was  still  another  problem.  He  went  to 
a  bank  in  the  little  town  where  he  had  other  friends  from 
whom  he  had  never  asked  credit.  They  loaned  him  what 
he  asked  for,  $5.00.  With  this  he  went  to  Dallas.  The 
senior  member  of  the  firm  was  in  town  —  that  is,  senior  in 
age  but  not  in  position.  Jean  Baptiste  possessed  great  per- 
sonality, and  to  be  near  one  was  to  effect  that  one  with  it. 

"  I  believe  you  could  do  alright  with  that  book,  Baptiste," 
this  one  said  when  Baptiste  had  told  him  regarding  the 
company  who  would  put  it  out  for  him. 

"  Yes,  I  am  confident  I  can,  too,  Graydon,"  replied  Bap- 
tiste. "  But  I  am  clean,  dead  broke.  I  can't  go  down 
there." 

The  other  was  silent  for  a  moment  as  he  stood  wrapped 
in  thought.  Presently  he  said : 


IRENE  GREY 


409 


"  How  much  do  you  have  to  have  to  go  down  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  thirty-five  or  forty  dollars." 

"  I'll  let  you  have  fifty." 

"  I'm  ready  at  any  minute,"  so  saying,  he  went  to  a  store 
across  the  street  where  he  had  friends,  and  there  was  dressed 
from  head  to  foot,  charging  the  clothes  to  his  account.  Two 
days  later  he  walked  into  the  office  of  the  printing  firm  with 
which  he  had  been  in  correspondence.  They  were  rather 
surprised  when  they  saw  that  he  was  an  Ethiopian,  but  he 
soon  put  them  at  ease. 

After  several  days'  of  negotiating  they  finally  reached  an 
agreement  whereby  they  would  manufacture  one  thousand 
copies  at  seventy-five  cents  per  copy.  He  was  to  pay  one 
third  of  the  amount  before  the  book  went  to  press,  the 
balance  he  was  to  pay  within  a  reasonable  time.  An  out- 
rageous price,  he  knew  —  at  least  felt.  But  he  was  to  have 
all  subsequent  editions  for  one  half  the  amount  of  the 
original  edition,  which  was  some  consolation  to  look  for- 
ward to. 

Another  fence :  who  would  furnish  that  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  and  secure  him  for  the  remainder?  Besides, 
what  would  he  do  with  the  books  when  he  had  them  ?  Pub- 
lishing meant  distribution.  But  what  did  he  know  of  such  ? 
He  thought  these  things  over  carefully  and  finally  decided 
that  he  would  sell  them  himself.  He  communicated  this 
fact  to  the  firm.  It  was  rather  unusual  for  an  author,  per- 
haps, to  sell  his  own  works.  Jean  Baptiste  had  never  sold 
anything  by  solicitation  since  he  had  grown  up,  but  when  he 
was  young  he  had  been  a  great  peddler  of  garden  vegetables. 
He  would  sell  his  book,  and  he  seemed  to  convince  them 
that  he  could. 

They  prepared  some  prospectuses  for  him,  and  back  home 
he  returned.  He  told,  in  answer  to  the  volumes  of  inquiries 


4io  THE  HOMESTEADER 

that  everything  was  all  right,  and  that  the  book  would 
appear  soon.  He  said  nothing,  however,  to  the  friends  he 
had  in  view  to  put  up  the  money  and  that  necessary  security. 
He  believed  in  proving  a  thing,  and  all  else  would  neces- 
sarily follow.  He  would  go  out  and  secure  orders  there  at 
home  among  his  friends  and  acquaintances.  But  the  day 
he  planned  to  start  was  very  cold  —  the  mercury  stood 
twenty-seven  below  zero. 

Starting  in  Dallas  he  received  orders  for  one  hundred 
forty-two  copies  the  first  day.  Very  good  for  a  starter. 
He  went  to  Winner  the  next  day.  Despite  the  fact  that  the 
drought  had  done  no  good  to  the  people  of  that  community 
and  town,  they  all  were  acquainted  with  and  admired  Jean 
Baptiste.  Besides,  they  would  not  see  Dallas  beat  them. 
And  one  hundred  fifty-three  copies  were  ordered  by  them. 

Jean  Baptiste  could  prove  anything  in  a  fair  fight  if  given 
a  chance.  He  secured  orders  for  fifteen  hundred  copies 
of  his  book  in  two  weeks.  The  promoters  went  his  security 
and  put  up  the  cash  into  the  bargain,  and  he  went  back  to 
the  publishing  house  victorious. 

The  printers  had  evidenced  their  confidence  in  him,  for 
they  had  been  so  impressed  with  his  personality  that  they 
had  begun  work  upon  the  copy  when  he  returned.  In  thirty 
days  it  was  ready,  and  in  sixty  days  from  the  time  he  was 
penniless,  he  had  deposited  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  to 
the  credit  of  the  book  in  the  banks. 

As  he  was  winding  up  his  business  preparatory  to  inter- 
viewing his  printers,  establishing  an  office  and  going  into 
the  book  business  for  a  livelihood,  he  was  the  recipient  of 
a  telegram  from  Washington  advising  that  the  Honorable 
Secretary  of  the  Interior  had  reversed  the  commissioner's 
decision,  which  had  been  adverse  to  his  wife,  with  regard 
to  the  claim.  He  had  won,  but  as  to  how  he  would  ever 


IRENE  GREY  411 

prove  up  he  didn't  know,  nor  did  he  let  it  worry  him.  He 
was  too  flushed  with  success  in  his  new  field.  He  could 
still  hold  the  claim,  but  it  would  be  his  wife  who  must  offer 
proof  on  the  same,  and  his  wife  he  had  not  heard  from  for 
over  a  year. 

He  did  not  find  his  new  field  of  endeavor  so  profitable 
when  he  began  to  work  among  strangers.  Indeed,  while  he 
did  business  the  money  didn't  seem  to  come  in  as  it  should. 
He  conceived  an  idea  of  securing  agents  among  the  colored 
people,  and  in  that  way  effect  a  good  sale.  To  begin  with, 
this  was  difficult,  for  the  reason  the  black  man's  environ- 
ment has  not  been  conducive  to  the  art  of  selling  anything 
except  those  things  that  require  little  or  no  wide  knowl- 
edge. They  deal  largely  in  hair  goods  to  make  their  curls 
grow  or  hang  straighter, —  or  in  complexion  creams  to  clar- 
ify and  whiten  the  skin.  Yet  he  succeeded  in  getting  many 
to  take  the  agency  and  these  received  orders  and  sent  for 
the  books.  He  had  learned  that  it  was  a  custom  with  sub- 
scription book  companies  to  allow  agents  to  have  the  books 
and  give  them  thirty  days  in  which  to  remit  the  money. 
This  proved  agreeable  to  his  agents.  However,  the  greater 
number  of  them  took  not  only  thirty  days  —  but  life,  and 
did  not  send  in  the  money  when  they  died. 

He  was  confronted  then  with  the  task  of  learning  how 
he  could  get  the  books  to  them  and  be  assured  of  his 
money.  To  learn  this,  he  went  on  the  road  himself  appoint- 
ing agents  and  selling  to  bookstores.  And  it  was  upon  this 
journey  that  he  met  one  who  had  played  a  little  part  in  his 
life  some  years  before,  at  a  time  when  conditions  had  been 
entirely  different  with  him. 

In  Kansas  City  she  occurred  to  him.  He  recalled  that  it 
was  only  twelve  miles  from  the  city  where  her  father  owned 
and  lived  upon  one  of  the  greatest  farms  in  the  country. 


4i2  THE  HOMESTEADER 

He  thought  of  the  last  letter  he  had  received  from  her,  the 
letter  that  had  come  too  late.  And  then  he  thought  of  what 
had  passed  since.  Girls  in  her  circumstances  would  not  be 
likely  to  waste  their  sympathies  with  grasswidowers ;  but 
he  wished  that  he  might  see  her  and  look  just  once  into  the 
eyes  that  might  have  been  his.  But  his  courage  failed  him. 
He  still  had  spirit  and  pride,  so  he  gave  it  up  for  the  time. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  he  was  engaged  with 
some  acquaintances  in  the  bar-room  of  a  club.  They  be- 
came quite  jolly  as  cocktails  and  red  liquor  flowed  and 
tingled  their  veins.  He  thought  again  of  Irene  Grey,  and 
the  memory  was  exhilarating.  And  the  cocktails  gave  him 
the  necessary  courage.  He  was  bold  at  last  and  to  the  tele- 
phone he  went  and  called  her  over  long  distance. 

"  Is  this  the  Greys  home  ?  "  he  called. 

"  Yes,"  came  back  the  answer,  and  he  was  thrilled  at  the 
mellowness  of  the  voice  at  the  other  end. 

"  Is  Miss  Irene  at  home  ?  "  he  called  now. 

"  Yes,"  it  said.     "  This  is  she." 

He  was  sobered.  All  the  effect  of  the  cocktails  went  out 
of  him  on  the  instant.  He  choked  blindly,  groped  for 
words,  and  finally  said : 

"  Why  —  er  —  ah  —  this  is  a  friend  of  yours.  An  old 
friend.  Mayhap  you  have  forgotten  me." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  called  back.     "  Who  are  you?  " 

He  still  didn't  have  the  courage  to  tell  her,  but  sought  to 
make  himself  known  by  explaining.  He  then  mentioned 
the  state  from  whence  he  came,  but  no  further  did  he  get. 
It  so  happened  that  she  had  heard  all  about  his  troubles 
following  his  marriage,  and,  womanlike,  feeling  that  she 
had  been  in  a  way  displaced  by  the  other,  she  had  always 
been  anxious  to  meet  and  know  him. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  and  the  echo  of  her  voice  rang  in  his 


IRENE  GREY  413 

ears  over  the  wire  for  some  moments.  "  Is  this  you  ?  "  she 
cried  now,  her  voice  evidencing  the  excitement  she  was 
laboring  under. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted  somewhat  awkwardly,  not  knowing 
whether  the  fact  had  thrilled  and  joyed  her,  or,  whether  he 
was  in  for  a  rebuke  for  calling  her  up.  But  he  was  speedily 
reassured. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  come  on  out  here  ?  "  she  cried. 

"I  —  I  didn't  know  whether  I  would  be  welcome,"  he 
replied,  happy  in  a  new  way. 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  Why  wouldn't  you  be  welcome  ?  But 
now,"  her  tone  changed.  "  Where  are  you  ?  " 

"  In  Kansas  Ctiy." 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  and  he  knew  she  was  thinking. 
"  It  is  now  four  thirty,  and  a  train  leaves  there  that  passes 
through  here  in  forty  minutes.  It  doesn't  stop  here;  but 
you  catch  it  and  go  to  the  station  above  here,  do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  replied  eagerly. 

"  Well,  now,  listen !  The  station  I  refer  to  is  only  four 
miles  above  this,  and  when  you  get  off  there,  catch  another 
train  that  comes  in  a  few  minutes  back  this  way,  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Well,  that  train  stops  at  this  station,  and  there  I  will 
meet  you." 

"  Oh,  fine,"  he  cried.     "  I'll  be  there." 

"  Now  you  will  be  sure  to  catch  it,"  she  cautioned. 

"  Most  assuredly !  " 

"  I  will  depend  on  it." 

"  Count  me  there !  " 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  I'm  going  to  talk  all  night." 

"  Good-by." 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHAT   MIGHT   HAVE   BEEN 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  was  so  elated  over  being  invited  to 
call  early  to  see  Miss  Irene  Grey,  that  he  went  back 
to  the  bar  where  his  acquaintances  lingered,  ordered 
drinks  for  all,  and  imbibed  so  freely  that  when  he  reached 
the  depot,  he  found  the  train  had  left  him.  His  disappoint- 
ment was  keen,  and  he  was  provoked  with  himself.  How- 
ever, since  it  was  so,  he  went  to  a  booth,  called  her  up,  and 
advised  her  of  the  fact. 

"  Now  wasn't  that  careless  of  you,"  she  complained.  "  I 
am  sure  you  are  very  careless." 

"  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  anything  in  the  world,"  he 
told  her.  "  Indeed,  I  was  so  delighted  over  the  prospects 
of  seeing  you,  after  these  many  years,  and  I  indulged  so 
freely  that  I  lost  the  sense  of  time." 

"  How  is  that  —  did  you  say  that  you  drank  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  I  do,"  he  admitted  frankly ;  "  but  not  in  a 
dangerous  sense.  I  do  not  recall  having  been  drunk  but 
once  in  my  life,  and  trust  that  I  will  never  have  occasion 
to  recall  a  second  occurrence." 

"Oh,"  she  echoed.  "I  am  relieved.  I  don't  trust  a 
drinker,  and  the  fact  that  you  were  left  made  me  suspect 
you:" 

"  At  least  I  can  reassure  you  on  that  score.  I  am  proud 
to  say  that  I  have  the  strength  of  my  convictions." 

"  I  am  pleased  to  hear  that.  A  man  has  a  poor  chance  to 
succeed  in  the  world  otherwise." 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  415 

"  I  agree  with  you." 

"  Well,  now,  let  me  see  when  you  can  get  out  here,"  she 
said  meditatively.  After  a  time  he  heard  her  voice  again. 
He  had  never  seen  her,  not  even  a  photograph  of  her.  He 
could  only  estimate  her  appearance  from  recalling  her 
brother,  and  from  what  he  had  been  told.  But  however  she 
may  appear,  her  voice,  to  say  the  least,  was  the  most  beau- 
tiful he  thought  that  he  had  ever  heard.  He  listened  to 
every  word  she  said,  and  thought  the  tone  like  sweet  music. 

"  You  will  have  to  stay  in  K.  C.  all  night  now,"  she  said 
regretfully.  "  And  I  must  repeat  that  I  am  so  disap- 
pointed. It  had  been  my  dream  that  I  would  talk  with  you 
all  the  night  through,"  whereupon  she  laughed  and  this  was 
even  more  beautiful  than  her  voice  when  speaking.  "  But, 
now,"  she  began  again,  admonishingly,  "  you  will  arise  at 
eight  —  no,  seven,  do  you  understand,  and  catch  a  train  that 
leaves  the  city  at  eight.  I  will  be  at  the  station  to  meet  you 
again." 

"  I  cross  my  heart  that  I  will  catch  it." 

"  And  if  you  do  not  —  so  help  you  God !  " 

"  I  hope  to  die  if  I  miss  it." 

"  Well,  if  you  do,  don't  die  —  but  catch  the  train,  that's 
all.  Now  good-by,  and  you  are  forgiven  this  once." 

"  Good-by." 

Whatever  happened  it  is  irrelevant  to  relate,  but  Jean 
Baptiste  missed  the  morning  train,  and  so  disgusted  was 
he  with  himself  that  he  boarded  a  train  for  Topeka  where 
he  went  and  appointed  some  agents,  intending  to  get  the 
train  back  that  afternoon.  But  his  "  Jonah  "  still  clung  to 
him,  and  when  he  had  it  estimated  that  the  train  went  at 
five-thirty,  it  had  gone  at  four  fifty-two  and  he  was  left 
again. 


416  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  I'll  catch  the  morning  train  if  I  must  sit  here  all  the 
night  through,"  he  swore,  so  put  out  with  himself  that  he 
could  say  no  more. 

He  ascertained  the  exact  minute  the  morning  train  left, 
and  this  train  found  him  on  time.  It  was  Sunday  in  early 
June,  and  the  day  was  beautiful.  The  air  was  rich,  and 
the  growing  crops  gave  forth  a  sweet  aroma.  He  reached 
the  little  town  near  where  she  lived,  and  even  from 
the  depot  the  splendid  home  in  which  they  lived  could  be 
seen  reposing  vaingloriously  upon  a  hillside.  In  the  com- 
munity her  father  was  the  wealthiest  man,  having  made  his 
fortune  in  the  growing  of  potatoes  and  fruit. 

She  was  not  at  the  depot  to  meet  him,  and  he  had  not  ex- 
pected her.  It  was  perhaps  two  miles  to  the  big  residence 
en  the  hill,  and  to  this  he  set  out  to  walk.  When  he  arrived, 
the  house  seemed  to  be  deserted,  and,  as  it  was  Sunday,  he 
surmised  that  the  family  were  at  services.  He  went  up  to 
the  front  door  and  knocked  loudly.  He  was  conscious  at 
once  of  whisperings  from  the  inside.  Presently  the  door 
was  opened  slowly  an  inch,  and  he  saw  an  eye  peeping 
out  at  him. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  a  voice  whispered. 

He  told  the  eye. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  the  voice  and  it  happened  to  be  a  boy, 
and  the  cause  of  the  whispering  and  quietness  from  the 
inside  was  due  to  certain  pranks  going  on  inside.  "  And 
you're  that  fellow  from  up  in  the  Northwest,"  said  the 
youngster,  opening  the  door  wide  and  stepping  away  to  look 
at  him  curiously. 

"  Yes,  I  guess  that's  whom  you  refer  to." 

"  We  are  certainly  glad  to  see  you  around  here,"  said  the 
other.  "  Irene's  been  down  to  the  train  to  meet  you  three 
times  and  she's  sure  righting  mad  by  this  time." 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  417 

"  Oh,  say,  I  really  don't  blame  her  a  bit  —  to  be  put  to  so 
much  trouble  and  be  disappointed  in  the  end.  But,  on  the 
square,  I  had  not  anticipated  being  so  highly  honored." 

"  Aw,  we've  been  anxious  to  know  you  for  years.  We 
boys  had  sort  of  planned  when  you  was  writing  to  Irene  two 
or  three  years  ago  to  come  up  there  and  get  in  on  some  of 
that  land." 

"  That  would  have  been  a  capital  move." 

"  Yes,  but  you  quit  writing  and  got  married,  so  we  heard, 
and  had  bad  luck  in  the  end,"  whereupon  he  laughed.  Bap- 
tiste  looked  embarrassed. 

"  Where  is  the  family  and  how  many  are  there  of  you?  " 

"  Aw,  say !  We  are  so  many  around  here  that  you'll  have 
to  get  paper  and  pencil  and  mark  us  down  to  keep  track  of 
how  many.  My  father  is  in  Colorado  on  business,  while 
Irene,  mama  and  another  sister  are  at  the  next  town  up  the 
line  attending  a  funeral." 

"  And  the  boys  — " 

"  Just  gettin'  ready  to  go  swimmin'.     Wanta  go  long?  " 

"  Say,  there  hasn't  enough  water  fallen  where  I've  lived 
for  the  last  three  years  at  the  right  time  to  fill  a  pond  deep 
enough  to  go  swimming  in,  so  I'll  just  take  you  up,"  he 
cried,  full  of  the  idea. 

It  was  in  the  early  afternoon  when  they  got  back,  to  find 
that  the  folks  had  returned  from  the  funeral,  following 
the  boys,  Baptiste  entered  by  the  kitchen  door  to  encounter 
the  mother  and  three  daughters  preparing  the  meal.  Here- 
upon he  was  caused  much  embarrassment  and  discomfiture, 
for  of  the  three  girls,  he  knew  not  which  one  was  Irene. 
Quickly  seeing  his  confusion,  they  laughed  long  and  heartily 
among  themselves.  Finally,  his  predicament  became  so 
awkward  that  an  expression  of  distress  crept  into  his  face. 
At  this  point  the  most  attractive  one  of  the  three  girls 


4i8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

walked  forward,  extended  her  hand,  and  he  saw  by  the 
expression  she  now  wore,  that  she  was  sorry  for  him,  as 
she  said: 

"  I'm  Irene,  and  you  are  Mr.  Jean  Baptiste."  She  paused 
then,  and  looked  away  to  hide  the  color  that  had  rushed  to 
her  face,  while  he  clutched  the  outstretched  hand  just  a 
bit  dubiously.  She  looked  up  then  again,  and  seeing  that  he 
was  still  confused  and  perhaps  in  doubt,  she  reassured  him : 

"  The  joke  is  over  now,  thanks.  I'm  the  one  you  called 
up  and  once  wrote  to.  I'm  Irene,"  and  with  this  she  led 
him  to  the  front  and  showed  him  her  picture,  whereupon  he 
was  at  last  satisfied. 

"  And  you  came  at  last,"  she  said  later,  when  the  two 
were  seated  in  the  parlor. 

"  At  last,"  he  laughed  and  observed  her  keenly.  She 
noted  it,  and  conjectured  that  it  was  from  a  curiosity  that 
was  some  years  old.  It  was  true,  and  he  was  seeing  her  and 
perhaps  thinking  of  what  might  have  been. 

She  was  beautiful,  he  could  see.  A  mixed  type  of  the 
present  day  Negro,  she  was  slightly  tall,  and  somewhat 
slender,  with  a  figure  straight  and  graceful.  Her  hair  was 
of  the  silken  wavy  sort  not  uncommon  among  the  Negro 
of  this  type.  Such  hair  seems  to  have  had  its  beginning 
with  the  cross  between  the  Negro  and  the  Indian  —  a  result 
that  has  always  been  striking  when  it  comes  to  the  hair. 
Her  face,  like  her  figure  was  straight  and  slender;  while 
her  eyes  were  black,  quick  and  small.  Her  nose  was  high 
bridged,  and  straight  to  a  point  while  the  mouth  below  was 
small  and  tempting.  But  what  he  observed  most  of  all  now, 
and  admired  forthwith  was  the  chin.  A  wonderful  chin, 
long  and  straight.  A  strong,  firm  chin,  and  as  he  regarded 
it  he  could  seem  to  read  the  owner.  Whatever  she  was 
or  may  be,  he  was  confident  then  that  she  was  possessed  of 


WHAT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  419 

a  strong  will  and  in  that  moment  Orlean  recurred  to  him. 
Orlean  was  regarded  as  a  fairly  attractive  woman;  but  her 
chin,  unlike  that  of  the  one  before  him,  was  inclined  to 
retreat.  And,  of  course,  he  knew  only  too  well,  that  her 
will  had  been  the  weakest. 

"  You  are  very  successful  in  missing  trains,"  she  ven- 
tured. 

He  laughed,  and  she  joined  him.  He  looked  up  then 
and  caught  her  regarding  him  keenly  out  of  her  half  closed 
eyes,  and  as  she  did  so,  she  reminded  him  of  an  Indian 
princess  such  as  he  had  seen  in  pictures  and  read  about. 
There  was  more  about  her  than  he  had  at  first  observed, 
and  which  was  made  plain  in  the  look  she  gave  him.  For 
in  it  there  was  passion  —  love  to  her  meant  much ! 

"  Oh,  I  was  so  disappointed,"  she  said. 

"  It  was  not  you  ?  " 

"  But  how  could  you  have  missed  the  train  so  often?  " 

"  I  cannot  account  for  it.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  doing 
so.  Indeed,  I  think  it  was  because  I  was  overly  anxious." 

She  laughed  then,  to  herself,  elfin  like. 

"  I  have  been  curious  to  see  you  for  a  long  time." 

He  was  silent,  and  his  eyes  did  not  return  the  look  she 
had  given  him. 

"  Ever  since  I  received  that  letter.  .  .  ." 

And  still  he  did  not  reply.  The  subject  was  too  sugges- 
tive, not  to  say  embarrassing;  but  she  was  bold.  He 
couldn't  know  now  whether  she  was  serious  or  merely  jok- 
ing; but  notwithstanding  it  sounded  pleasant  to  his  ears. 
He  could  hear  her  voice  for  a  long  time,  he  was  sure,  and 
not  grow  weary.  .  .  .  We  should  pause  at  this  point  to  make 
known  —  perhaps  explain,  that  the  persons  of  our  story  are 
the  unconventional.  And  with  the  unconventional  what 
was  in  their  minds  was  most  likely  to  be  discussed.  The 


420 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


woman,  therefore,  was  the  most  curious.  She  was  a  woman, 
and  in  truth  she  would  have  married  the  man  beside  her 
had  he  have  come  hither  when  he  had  gone  to  Chicago. 

"  What  did  you  do  with  your  little  wife?  " 

He  raised  his  eyes  then,  not  to  look  at  her,  but  because 
of  something  he  did  not  himself  understand.  Perhaps  it 
just  happened  so?  She  regarded  him  again;  looked  him 
full  in  the  eyes,  and  his  eyes  spoke  more  than  words. 
Strangely  she  understood  all,  almost  in  a  flash,  and  was 
sorry.  She  regretted  that  she  had  spoken  so  directly.  She 
admired  him  now.  When  he  had  looked  up,  and  like  that, 
she  had  seemed  to  see  and  understand  at  last  the  man  he  was. 

"  Pardon  me,  please,"  she  said,  and  rising  quickly,  took  a 
chair  nearer  his.  She  reached  and  touched  him  on  the 
arm.  "I  didn't  —  I  — well,  I  didn't  intend  to  be  bold." 
She  paused  in  confusion,  and  then  went  on : 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me.  I  am  sure  I  didn't  intend 
to  embarrass  you." 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  And  since  you  have  asked 
me,  may  I  explain  ?  " 

It  was  she  who  was  now  embarrassed.  She  looked  away 
in  great  confusion.  She  was  bolder  than  the  conventional 
girl  as  a  rule ;  but  the  subject  was  delicate.  Yet  she  wanted 
to  hear  the  story  that  she  knew  he  would  never  tell.  If  he 
did,  he  was  not  the  type  of  man  she  had  estimated. 

"  Of  course  you  would  think  me  a  cad,  a  —  well,  I  have 
my  opinion  of  a  man  that  would  tell  his  side  of  such  a  story 
to  a  woman" 

She  looked  at  him  then  without  any  embarrassment  in 
her  eyes.  She  was  able  to  read  the  man  and  all  that  was 
him  clearly.  She  smiled  a  smile  after  this  that  was  one  of 
satisfaction,  and  at  that  moment  her  sisters  called  that  the 
meal  was  ready. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  TELL   ME   WHY    YOU   DIDN'T   ANSWER   THE    LAST    LETTER    I 
WROTE  YOU  " 

OW  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  all  about  yourself, 
that  is,  all  you  care  to  tell,"  said  Irene  Grey  to  the 
man  who  sat  beside  her  on  the  veranda  of  their 
beautiful  home,  some  time  after  luncheon  had  been  served. 
"  I  have  always  been  peculiarly  interested  in  you  and  your 
life  alone  off  there  in  the  Northwest,"  whereupon  she  made 
herself  comfortable  and  prepared  to  listen. 

"  Oh,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  thinking  of  the  series  of  dry 
years  and  their  attendant  disaster,  and  hoping  that  he  could 
find  some  way  of  avoiding  a  conversation  in  which  that  was 
involved.  "  I  really  don't  consider  there  is  much  to  relate. 
My  life  has  been  rather  —  well,  in  a  measure  uneventful." 

"  Oh,  but  it  hasn't,  I  know,"  she  protested.  "  All  alone 
you  were  for  so  many  years,  and  you  have  been,  so  I  have 
been  told,  an  untiring  worker."  She  was  anxious,  he  could 
see,  but  withal  sincere,  and  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon, 
she  told  him  of  how  her  father  had  came  to  Kansas  a  poor 
man,  bought  the  land  now  a  part  of  what  they  owned  on 
payments,  found  that  raising  potatoes  was  profitable  —  es- 
pecially when  they  were  ready  for  the  early  market,  and 
later  after  his  marriage  to  her  mother,  and  with  her  mother's 
assistance,  had  succeeded.  From  where  they  sat,  their 
property  stretched  before  them  in  the  valley  of  the  Kaw, 
and  comprised  several  hundred  acres  of  the  richest  soil  in 
the  state.  Indeed,  his  success  was  widely  known,  and  Jean 

421 


422 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


Baptiste  had  been  rather  curious  to  know  the  family  inti- 
mately. 

After  some  time  he  walked  with  her  through  three  hun- 
dred acres  of  potatoes  that  lay  in  the  valley  before  the 
house,  and  he  had  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  oppor- 
tunity to  study  potato  raising  on  a  large  scale. 

"  From  your  conversation  it  seems  that  you  raise  potatoes 
on  the  same  ground  every  year.  I  am  curious  to  know  how 
this  is  done,  for  even  on  the  blackest  soil  in  the  country  I 
live,  this  is  regarded  as  quite  impossible  with  any  success." 

"  Well,  it  is  generally  so ;  but  we  have  found  that  to  plow 
the  land  after  the  potatoes  have  been  dug,  and  then  seed  the 
same  in  turnips  is  practical.  When  the  turnips,  with  their 
wealth  of  green  leaves  are  at  their  best,  then,  we  plow  them 
under  and  the  freezing  does  the  rest." 

"  A  wonderful  mulch  !  " 

"  It  is  very  simple  when  one  looks  into  it."  They  were 
walking  through  the  fields,  and  without  her  knowing  it,  he 
studied  her.  The  kind  of  girl  and  the  kind  of  family  his 
race  needed,  he  could  see.  In  his  observation  of  the  clan 
to  which  he  had  been  born,  practicability  was  the  greatest 
need.  Indeed  he  was  sometimes  surprised  that  his  race 
could  be  so  impracticable.  Further  west  in  this  State,  his 
uncles,  who,  like  all  Negroes  previous  to  the  emancipation, 
had  been  born  slaves,  had  gone  West  in  the  latter  seventies 
and  early  eighties,  and  settled  on  land.  With  time  this  land 
had  mounted  to  great  values  and  the  holders  had  been  made 
well-to-do  thereby.  A  case  of  evolution,  on  all  sides.  Over 
all  the  Central  West,  this  had  been  so.  At  the  price  land 
now  brought  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  any  to  own 
land.  There  happened,  then  as  had  recently,  a  series  of 
dry  years  —  seemingly  about  every  twenty  years.  To  pull 
through  such  a  siege,  the  old  settlers  usually  did  much  bet- 


"  TELL  ME  WHY  YOU  DIDN'T  " 


423 


ter  than  the  new.  To  begin  with,  they  were  financially  bet- 
ter able ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  they  did  not,  as  a  rule,  take 
the  chances  new  settlers  were  inclined  to  take.  Because 
two  or  three  years  were  seasonable,  and  crops  were  good, 
they  did  not  become  overly  enthusiastic  and  plunge  deeply 
into  debt  as  he  had  done.  He  could  see  his  error  now,  and 
the  chances  new  settlers  were  inclined  to  take.  Because 
moreover,  he  had  been  so  much  alone  —  his  wedded  life  had 
been  so  brief,  and  even  during  it,  he  was  confused  so  much 
with  disadvantages,  that  he  had  never  attempted  to  subsi- 
dize his  farming  with  stock  raising.  Perhaps  this  had  been 
his  most  serious  mistake;  to  have  had  a  hundred  head  of 
cattle  during  such  a  period  as  had  just  passed,  would  have 
been  to  have  gone  through  it  without  disaster. 

He  felt  rather  guilty  as  he  strolled  beside  this  girl  whose 
father  had  succeeded.  But  one  thing  he  would  not  do,  and 
that  was  make  excuses.  He  had  ever  been  opposed  to  ex- 
cusing away  his  failures.  If  he  had  failed,  he  had  failed, 
no  excuses  should  be  resorted  to.  But  as  they  strolled 
through  the  fields  of  potatoes  he  could  not  help  observe  the 
contrast  between  the  woman  he  had  married,  and  the  one 
now  beside  him  that  he  might  have  had  for  wife.  Here 
was  one,  and  he  did  not  know  her  so  well  as  to  conclude 
what  kind  of  girl  in  all  things  she  was,  but  it  was  a  self 
evident  fact  that  she  was  practical.  Whereas,  he  had  only 
to  recall  that  not  only  had  his  wife  been-  impractical,  but 
that  her  father  before  her  had  been  so.  He  recalled  that 
awful  night  before  he  had  taken  her  away,  at  Colome,  when 
that  worthy  when  he  chanced  to  use  the  word  practical,  had 
exclaimed :  "  I'm  so  tired  of  hearing  that  word  I  do  not 
know  what  to  do !  "  and  it  was  seconded  by  his  cohort  in 
evil,  Ethel. 

His  race  was  filled  with  such  as  N.  J.  McCarthy,  he 


424 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


knew ;  but  not  only  were  they  hypocrites,  and  in  a  measure 
enemies  to  success  but  enemies  to  society  as  well.  How 
many  were  there  in  his  race  who  purported  to  be  sacrificing 
their  very  soul  for  the  cause  of  Ethiopia  but  when  so  little 
as  medical  aid  was  required  in  their  families,  called  in  a 
white  physician  to  administer  the  same.  This  had  been 
the  case  of  his  august  father-in-law  all  his  evil  life. 

"  Would  you  like  to  walk  down  by  the  river  ?  "  she  said 
now,  and  looked  up  into  his  face.  She  had  been  silent 
while  he  was  so  deeply  engrossed  in  thought,  and  upon 
hearing  her  voice  he  started  abruptly. 

"  What  —  why  —  what's  the  matter  ?  "  she  inquired  anx- 
iously. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said  quickly,  coloring  guiltily.  "  I  was 
just  thinking." 

"  Of  what?"  she  asked  artfully. 

"  Of  you,"  he  said  evasively. 

"No,  you  weren't,"  she  said  easily.  "  On  the  contrary, 
I  venture  to  suggest  that  you  were  thinking  of  yourself, 
your  life  and  what  it  has  been." 

"  You  are  psychological." 

"  But  I  have  guessed  correctly,  haven't  I  ?  " 

"  I'm  compelled  to  agree  that  you  have." 

They  had  reached  the  river  now,  and  took  a  seat  where 
they  could  look  out  over  its  swiftly  moving  waters. 

"  Frankly  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  of  your  life,"  she  said 
seriously.  "  My  brother  who,  as  you  know  is  now  dead, 
told  me  so  much  of  you.  Indeed,  he  was  so  very  much  im- 
pressed with  you  and  your  ways.  He  used  to  tell  me  of 
what  an  extraordinary  character  you  were,  and  I  was  so 
anxious  to  meet  you." 

He  was  silent,  but  she  was  an  unconventionally  bold  per- 


"  TELL  ME  WHY  YOU  DIDN'T  "  425 

son.  She  was  curious,  and  the  more  he  was  silent  on  such 
topics,  the  more  anxious  she  became  to  know  the  secret  that 
he  held. 

"  I  appreciate  your  silence/'  she  said,  and  gave  him  the 
spell  of  her  wonderful  eyes.  Stretched  there  under  a  wal- 
nut she  was  the  picture  of  enchantment.  Almost  he  wanted 
to  forget  the  years  and  what  had  passed  with  them  since 
she  wrote  him  that  letter  that  he  had  received  too  late. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  one  question  —  have  wanted  to  ask 
it  for  years,"  she  pursued.  "  I  want  to  ask  it  because, 
somehow,  I  am  not  able  to  regard  you  as  a  flirt."  She 
paused  then,  and  regarded  him  with  her  quick  eyes,  ex- 
pectantly. But  he  made  no  answer,  so  she  went  on.  "  From 
what  /  have  heard,  I  think  I  may  be  free  to  discuss  this," 
and  she  paused  again,  with  her  eyes  asking  that  she  may. 

He  nodded. 

"  Well,  of  course,"  she  resumed,  as  if  glad  that  she  might 
tell  what  was  in  her  mind.  "  It  is  not  —  should  not  be 
the  woman  to  ask  it,  either ;  but  won't  you  tell  me  why  you 
didn't  answer  the  last  letter  I  wrote  you  —  tell  me  why  you 
didn't  come  on  the  visit  you  suggested?  " 

He  caught  his  breath  sharply,  whereat,  she  looked  up  and 
into  his  eyes.  His  lips  had  parted,  but  merely  to  exclaim, 
but  upon  quick  thought  he  had  hesitated. 

"Yes?" 

"  I  heard  you." 

"Well?" 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  answer  you." 

"  Please." 

"Don't  insist  on  a  reply." 

"  I  don't  want  to,  but  — " 

"  I'd  rather  not  tell." 


426  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  have  asked  you.  It 
was  perhaps  unladylike  in  me  so  to  do;  but  honestly  1 
would  like  to  know  the  truth." 

He  permitted  his  eyes  to  rest  on  the  other  bank,  and  as 
a  pastime  he  picked  up  small  pebbles  and  cast  them  into 
the  river,  and  watched  the  ripples  they  made  subside.  He 
thought  long  and  deeply.  He  had  almost  forgotten  the 
circumstances  that  led  up  to  the  unfortunate  climax.  She, 
by  his  side,  he  estimated,  was  merely  curious.  Should  he 
confess?  Would  it  be  worth  while?  Of  course  it  would 
not ;  but  at  this  moment  he  felt  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  We'll  go  now." 

They  arose  then,  and  went  between  the  rows  of  potatoes 
back  to  the  house.  When  they  arrived  there  was  some 
excitement,  and  she  was  greeted  anxiously. 

"  Papa  has  returned,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  coming  to 
meet  them. 

"  Oh,  he  has,"  whereupon  she  caught  his  hand  and  led 
him  hurriedly  into  the  presence  of  the  man  who  was  widely 
known  as  Junius  N.  Grey,  the  Negro  Potato  King. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   STORY 

JUNIUS  GREY  inquired  at  length  concerning  the  land 
whence  he  had  come,  of  the  prospects,  of  the  climate, 
and  at  last  relieved  Baptiste  by  inquiring  as  to  whether 
the  drought  had  swept  over  that  section  as  well  as  other 
westerly  parts. 

"  I  have  had  the  same  result  with  twenty-two  hundred 
acres  I  own  in  the  western  part  of  the  State.  But  such  will 
come  —  have  come  every  once  in  a  while  since  I  have  been 
here,"  he  assured  him.  "If  you  have  been  caught  with 
considerable  debt  to  annoy  you,  and  succeed  in  pulling 
through,  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  you  as  it  has  been  to  others." 

"  It  has  been  a  lesson,  I  admit,"  said  Baptiste  a  little 
awkwardly.  Irene,  who  seemed  to  be  her  father's  favorite, 
sat  near,  and  regarded  him  kindly  while  he  related  how  the 
drought  had  swept  over  the  land,  and  the  disaster  that  fol- 
lowed. He  did  not  tell  them  all;  that  he  had  been  fore- 
closed, but  that,  he  felt,  was  not  necessary. 

Withal,  he  had  met  those  in  his  race  whom  he  had  longed 
to  meet.  Of  business  they  could  discourse  with  intelli- 
gence, and  that  was  not  common.  Grey's  holdings  were 
much,  and  Baptiste  was  cheered  to  see  that  he  was  possessed 
with  the  sagacity  and  understanding  to  manage  the  same 
with  profit  to  himself.  Besides,  the  family  about  him,  while 
not  as  conventional  as  he  had  found  among  the  more  intelli- 
gent classes  of  his  race,  had  grown  into  the  business  ways 
and  assisted  him. 

•"  Would  you  like  to  attend  services  at  the  church  this 

427 


428  THE  HOMESTEADER 

evening,"  said  Irene  after  a  time,  and  when  they  were  again 
alone. 

"  Why,  I  suppose  I  might  as  well." 

"  Then  I'll  get  ready."  She  disappeared  then,  to  return 
shortly,  dressed  in  a  striking  black  dress  covered  with  fine 
lace ;  while  on  her  head  she  wore  a  wide,  drooping  hat  that 
set  off  her  appearance  with  much  artistic  effect. 

"  What  is  your  denomination,"  she  asked  when  they  went 
down  the  walkway  to  the  road.  The  church  was  not  far 
distant,  and,  in  fact  was  at  the  corner  of  his  property,  and 
was  largely  kept  up  by  her  father  he  had  been  told. 

"  The  big  church,  I  guess,"  he  said  amusedly. 

*'  Indeed !  "  she  exclaimed,  feigning  surprise. 

"And  yours?" 

"  Oh,  Baptist,  of  course,"  she  replied  easily. 

When  she  held  his  arm  like  she  now  did,  it  made  him 
feel  peculiar.  Never,  three  years  before,  would  he  have 
thought  that  he  would  be  company  again  for  another  woman 
—  at  least,  under  such  circumstances. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  protestantism?  " 

"  Well,"  he  replied  thoughtfully,  "  it  has  not  been  until 
lately  that  I  have  considered  it  seriously." 

"So?" 

"  And  sometimes  I  am  not  inclined  to  think  it  has  been 
for  the  best." 

"How  so?" 

"  Well,  it  appears  to  me  that  organization  is  lacking  in 
so  many  of  the  protestant  churches." 

"  But  is  that  the  fault  of  protestantism?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  reply  to  you.  It  seems,  however, 
that  inasmuch  as  Catholicism  requires  more  effort,  more 
concentration  of  will  force  on  the  part  of  their  members 
to  come  up  and  live  up  to  their  standard  of  religion;  and 


THE  STORY  429 

that  since  it  is  obviously  easier  to  be  some  kind  of  a  protest- 
ant,  then  protestantism  has  afforded  a  less  organized  appre- 
ciation of  the  Christ." 

"  You  make  it  very  plain.  And  especially  is  it  so  in  the 
church  to  which  I  belong.  But  I  am  sure,  however,  if  the 
standard  of  requirement  was  raised  within  the  Negro  Bap- 
tists, it  would  be  better  for  all." 

"  You  mean  — " 

"If  it  was  compulsory  for  the  ministers  to  possess  a 
college  education  and  attendance  for  at  least  three  years  at 
a  theological  seminary,  the  standard  would  be  raised  in  the 
churches  conducted  by  Negroes." 

"  I  agree  with  you ;  and  do  you  know,  that  since  I  have 
been  in  the  book  business  only  these  few  short  months,  it 
has  been  my  experience  that  ours  is  a  race  of  notoriously 
poor  readers." 

"  Isn't  it  so !  Oh,  it  is  dreadful  when  we  come  to  con- 
sider how  much  needy  knowledge  we  lose  thereby." 

"  It  is  staggering." 

"Why  is  it  so?" 

"  Well,  to  begin  with.  There  is  little  encouragement  to 
become  a  reader  among  Negroes  themselves.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, the  preacher.  By  all  circumstances  a  minister  —  at 
least  should  be  a  reader.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Well,  are  they  as  a  whole?  " 

"Lord,  no!" 

"  Then,  how  can  you  expect  their  followers  to  be  ?  " 

"  We  cannot." 

"  Another  disadvantage,  is  separate  schools." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand?  " 

"  Well,  mix  the  Negro  children  daily  with  the  whites,  and 
they  are  sure  to  become  enamored  of  their  ways." 


430  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  I  gather  your  trend." 

"  The  most  helpful  thing  on  earth.  Negro  children 
thereby  are  able,  in  a  measure,  to  eradicate  the  little  evils 
that  come  from  poor  homes ;  homes  wherein  the  parents, 
ignorant  often,  are  compelled  to  be  away  at  work." 

"  Evil  environment,  bad  influence !  " 

"  That  is  it.  There  is  no  encouragement  to  read,  there- 
fore no  opportunity  to  develop  thought,  and  the  habit  of 
observation." 

"  How  plain  you  make  everything." 

"  And  now  we  have  come  unto  the  church,  and  must 
end  our  conversation." 

"  I'm  sorry." 

He  was,  too,  but  they  filed  into  the  little  church. 

In  and  around  where  they  now  sat,  there  was  quite  a 
settlement  of  Negroes,  mostly  small  farmers.  Perhaps  it 
was  due  to  the  inspiration  of  the  successful  Grey.  She  had, 
earlier  in  the  evening,  pointed  out  here  and  there  where  a 
Negro  family  owned  five  acres ;  where  somewhere  else  they 
lived  on  and  farmed  ten  acres  and  fifteen  acres  and  so  on. 
After  slavery  there  had  been  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  the 
Negro  to  continue  in  the  industrious  ways  he  had  been  left 
in  by  his  former  master.  The  cultivation  was  strong;  but 
strangely  there  had  come  a  desire  to  go  into  town  to  see,  and 
to  loaf.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  had  not  been  given  such 
a  privilege  during  the  days  of  bondage.  But  here  in  this 
little  valley  of  the  Kaw,  he  was  cheered  to  see  his  race  on  a 
practical  and  sensible  basis.  Only  in  the  pursuit  of  agricul- 
ture can  the  black  man  not  complain  that  he  is  discriminated 
against  on  account  of  his  color. 

When  the  service  was  over,  they  walked  leisurely  home- 
ward, and  their  conversation  became  more  intimate.  The 
feeling  of  a  woman  by  his  side  thrilled  Jean  Baptiste.  In 


THE  STORY  431 

his  life  on  the  prairies,  this  had  never  been  afforded,  so  to 
him  it  was  something  new,  and  something  gloriously  sweet. 
Or  was  it  her  presence?  At  least  he  was  moved.  He  de- 
cided that  he  would  go  his  way  soon,  because  it  was  danger- 
ous for  him  to  linger  in  her  radiating  presence  without 
regretting  what  fate  had  willed. 

"  Isn't  it  warm  tonight  ? "  she  said,  when  they  reached 
the  porch. 

"  Dreadfully  so  down  here  in  your  valley." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  not  care  to  retire,  and  would  rather 
sit  out  where  the  air  is  best,"  she  suggested. 

"  I  would  be  glad  to." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  and  she  found  a  seat  where  they  were 
hidden  by  vines  and  the  shade  of  the  big  house.  "  I'll  re- 
turn presently,  when  I  have  put  my  hat  away." 

When  she  returned,  her  curiosity  to  know  why  he  had 
not  visited  her  was,  he  could  see  again,  her  chief  anxiety. 
She  tried  to  have  him  divulge  why  in  subtle  ways.  Late 
into  the  night  they  lingered  on  the  veranda,  and  he  found 
himself  on  the  verge  of  confessing  all  to  her. 

He  succeeded  in  keeping  it  from  her  that  night,  but  she 
was  resourceful.  Moreover,  her  curiosity  had  reached  a 
point  bordering  on  desperation.  Accordingly,  she  had  the 
boys  to  hitch  a  team  to  a  buggy  and  took  him  driving  over 
the  great  estate.  For  hours  during  the  cool  of  the  morn- 
ing, she  drove  him  through  orchards,  and  over  wheat- 
fields  where  the  wheat  now  reposed  in  shocks.  She  chatted 
freely,  discoursed  on  almost  every  topic,  and  during  it  all 
he  saw  what  a  wonderfully  courageous  woman  she 
was. 

He  loved  the  study  of  human  nature,  and  wit.  Here,  he 
could  see,  was  a  rare  woman,  but  withal  there  was  about  her 
something  that  disturbed  him.  What  was  it?  He  kept 


432  THE  HOMESTEADER 

trying  to  understand.  He  never  quite  succeeded  until  that 
night. 

A  heavy  rain  had  fallen  in  the  afternoon,  and  he  lingered 
in  her  company  at  her  invitation  and  encouragement.  That 
night  the  sky  was  overcast,  the  air  was  sultry,  and  the  night 
was  very  dark.  She  took  him  to  their  favorite  seat  within 
the  vines,  and  where  nothing  but  the  darkness  was  their 
company.  And  there  she  resumed  her  artful  efforts  to  have 
him  tell  her  all. 

Never  in  his  life  had  Jean  Baptiste  the  opportunity  to  be 
perfectly  free.  He  had  once  loved  dearly,  and  he  had 
sought  to  forget  the  one  he  had  so  loved  because  of  the 
Custom  of  the  Country  and  its  law.  Out  of  his  life  she  had 
apparently  gone,  and  we  know  the  fate  of  the  other.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  world  so  sweet  as  to  love  a  woman.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  mayhap  all  that  is  considered  love  is  not 
so;  it  may  be  merely  passion,  and  it  was  passion  he  dis- 
covered that  was  guiding  Irene  Grey.  He  saw  when  this 
occurred  to  him,  that  in  such  a  respect  she  was  unusual. 
Well,  his  life  had  been  an  unhappy  life ;  love  free  and  openly 
he  had  never  tasted  but  once,  but  a  law  higher  than  the  law 
of  the  land  had  willed  against  that  love,  and  he  had  sub- 
served to  custom.  So  he  decided  to  tell  her  all,  and  leave 
on  the  morrow. 

"  Please,  Jean,"  she  begged,  calling  him  by  his  first  name. 
"  Won't  you  tell  it  to  me  ?  " 

He  regarded  her  in  the  darkness  beside  him.  She  was 
very  close,  and  he  could  feel  the  warmth  of  her  body  against 
his.  He  reached  him  out  then,  and  boldly  placed  his  arm 
about  her.  She  yielded  to  the  embrace  without  objection. 
He  could  feel  the  soft  down  of  her  hair  against  his  face, 
and  it  served  to  intoxicate  him;  aroused  the  passion  and 
desire  in  his  hungry  soul. 


THE  STORY 


433 


"  Yes,  Irene/'  he  said  then.  "  I  will  tell  you  the  story, 
and  tomorrow  I  will  go  away." 

"  No,"  she  said,  and  drew  closer  to  him.  On  the  impulse 
he  embraced  her,  and  in  the  darkness  found  her  lips,  and  the 
kiss  was  like  a  soul  touch.  He  sighed  when  he  turned 
away,  but  she  caught  his  face  and  drew  his  lips  where  she 
could  hear  him  closely. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  repeated.  "  For  so  long  I  have  wanted 
to  hear." 

"  Well,  it  was  like  this.  You  know  —  rather,  perhaps 
you  recall  the  circumstances  under  which  we  met." 

"  I  remember  everything,  Jean." 

"  I  was  in  love  with  no  one,  I  can  say,  but  I  had  loved 
outside  of  our  race." 

"Our  race?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  mean,"  she  said,  straightening  curiously,  "  that  you 
loved  an  Indian  up  there?  That,  I  recall  is  the  home  of 
the  Sioux?" 

"  No,  I  have  never  loved  an  Indian." 

"Thenw/mf?" 

"  A  white  girl." 

"  Oh,  Jean,"  she  said,  and  drew  slightly  away.  He  drew 
her  back  to  him,  and  she  yielded  and  settled  closely  in  the 
curve  of  his  arm,  and  he  told  her  the  story. 

"  Honestly,  that  was  too  bad.  You  sacrificed  much. 
And  to  think  that  you  loved  a  white  girl !  " 

"  It  was  so." 

"  So  it  came  that  you  sacrificed  the  real  love  to  be  loyal 
to  the  race  we  belong  to  ?  " 

"  I  guess  you  may  call  it  that." 

"  It  was  manly,  though.     I  admire  your  strength." 

"  It  was  then  I  wrote  you." 


434  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Yes.     And—" 

"  Others." 

"  I  understand.  You  loved  none  of  us,  perhaps,  and  it 
was  because  you  had  not  had  the  opportunity,  maybe  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  was  so." 

"  And  now  I  will  hear  how  it  happened." 

"  I  must  first  confess  something  that  pains  me." 

"  Oh,  that  confession !  But  maybe  I  am  entitled  to  hear 
it?" 

"  Well,  yes,  I  think  so.     There  were  three." 

"  Oh  .  .  ." 

"  And  you  were  the  first  choice." 

"Me?" 

"  But  I  waited  for  your  letter.     There  was  a  time  limit." 

"  And  I  was  away." 

"  Therefore  never  received  it  in  time." 

"And  you?" 

"At  Omaha  I  hesitated,  and  then  decided  that  you  did 
not  favor  it." 

"0-oh!" 

"  So  I  went  to  Chicago,  to  meet  the  second  choice." 

"  Such  an  unusual  proceeding,  but  interesting,  oh,  so 
much  so.  Please  go  on." 

"  She  lived  in  New  York." 

"In  New  York?" 

"  Was  a  maid  on  the  Twentieth  Century  Limited." 

"  O^oh ! " 

"  But  sickness  overtook  her.  She  didn't  get  into  Chi- 
cago when  she  was  due." 

"  Such  fate." 

"  I  wonder  at  it." 

"  And  then  you  got  the  last  choice." 

"  That  is  it." 


THE  STORY  435 

Not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  she  was  so  carried  away 
with  the  story,  she  stared  before  her  into  the  darkness. 

"  And  when  did  you  receive  my  letter  ?  I  understand 
about  the  claim  business." 

"  When  I  returned  with  her  to  Gregory." 

She  was  silent.  He  was  too.  Both  were  in  deep  thought 
and  what  was  in  the  mind  of  both  was : 

What  might  have  been. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE  people  of  Winner  and  vicinity  had  no  oppor- 
tunity to  rush  to  the  Farmers'  State  Bank,  of  which 
Eugene  Crook,  mentioned  earlier  in  our  story  was 
president,  and  draw  any  portion  of  their  money  before  the 
bank  examiner's  notice  greeted  them  one  morning. 

The  bank  was  closed  by  order  of  the  public  examiner,  so 
that  was  settled.  The  causes  became  apparent  the  day  be- 
fore, although  those  directly  interested  did  not  understand. 
It  was  in  the  shape  of  drafts  they  had  bought  and  sent 
away,  which  came  back  to  them  indirectly,  marked  by  the 
bank  upon  which  they  were  drawn :  "  No  funds." 

Not  much  excitement  followed  the  closing,  although  in 
some  manner  Crook  had  worked  into  the  confidence  of  the 
people  since  moving  the  bank  to  Winner,  and  was  leading  the 
four  banks  in  the  town  in  point  of  deposits.  Of  course  it 
hit  many  needy  ones  quite  hard,  but  the  people  of  the  coun- 
try had  become  so  accustomed  to  adversities,  that  even  bank 
failures  included  did  not  excite  them. 

But  there  happened  a  few  days  after  the  failure  an  inci- 
dent that  has  some  connection  with  our  story.  Crook  went 
upon  a  journey.  He  was  gone  several  days  and  when  he 
returned,  the  unexpected  happened.  It  caused  about  as 
much  excitement  as  had  the  failure  of  the  bank  because  of 
its  cunningness. 

When  Jean  Baptiste  had  ended  his  visit  with  Irene  Grey, 
he  returned  to  his  office  at  the  publishing  house  to  find  con- 

436 


"  FOR  A  MESS  OF  POTTAGE  "  437 

siderable  mail  awaiting  him.  One  letter  was  from  his 
attorney  in  Washington,  and  since  he  had  won  the  claim  for 
Baptiste's  wife  in  the  contest,  Baptiste  naturally  took  it  for 
granted  that  it  was  a  request  for  the  balance  of  his  fee.  So 
he  laid  the  letter  aside  until  he  had  attended  to  all  other 
business,  and  later  opened  and  read  it. 

"  WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  July,  191  — 
"Mr.  'Jean  Baptiste, 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR  :  I  am  informed  through  your  attorney  at 
Gregory,  that  your  wife  has  sold  her  relinquishment  on  the 
homestead  I  was  successful  in  getting  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior  to  reverse  the  land  commissioners  decision  on.  I 
am  not  informed  further ;  but  inasmuch  as  you  are  living  on 
the  place,  my  advice  is  that  you  stick  right  there,  and  hold 
it.  You  may  write  and  advance  me  the  details  concerning 
the  matter,  and  I  will  assist  you  in  a  legal  way  in  pressing 
your  right  to  hold  the  same. 

"  In  the  meantime,  kindly  send  me  a  remittance  on  the 
fee  that  is  past  due  at  your  earliest  convenience,  and  oblige, 
"  Very  truly, 

"  PATRICK  H.  LOUGHRAN." 

He  reread  the  letter  to  be  positive  that  he  had  understood 
it  correctly.  He  was  thoughtful  as  he  allowed  the  substance 
to  become  clear.  His  wife  had  sold  her  relinquishment  on 
the  claim  that  he  had  spent  thirty-five  hundred  dollars  cash 
for.  And  in  so  doing  she  had  sacrificed  his  confidence ;  had 
sold  her  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  And  she  had 
not  received,  he  was  sure,  perhaps  one  tenth  part  of  the 
amount  he  had  expended  for  it.  He  thought  a  little  longer, 
and  as  he  did  so,  a  vision  of  his  arch  enemy  rose  before  him. 
His  mind  went  back  to  a  day  when  N.  J.  McCarthy  in  all 
his  lordliness  had  with  much  vituperation,  denounced  and 
condemned  Eugene  Crook  for  having  contested  his  poor 
daughter's  place,  and  all  the  white  race  with  him. 


438  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"And  Newton  Justine  McCarthy,"  muttered  Baptiste, 
"  this  is  more  of  your  work." 

He  was  very  calm  over  it,  was  Jean  Baptiste;  but  the 
turning  point  in  his  life  had  come.  At  last  his  manhood 
had  returned,  and  he  was  ready  to  fight. 

He  wrote  his  attorney  at  once  at  Gregory,  and  the  reply 
that  came  back  in  due  time  was : 

"GREGORY,  S.  D.,  July — 191  — 
"Mr.  Jean  Baptiste ,, 

"  FRIEND  JEAN  :  Replying  to  yours  regarding  the  claim, 
it  was  Eugene  Crook  who  got  it.  He  went  to  Chicago  and 
bought  it  from  your  wife,  through  her  father.  I  under- 
stand that  your  wife  refused  to  sell,  whereupon,  Crook  sent 
f  01  the  Reverend  who  was  at  Cairo,  sending  him  the  railroad 
fare  to  Chicago  at  the  same  time.  I  do  not,  of  course, 
know  just  what  followed,  but  it  is  the  report  here,  that  the 
Reverend  had  his  daughter  to  execute  the  relinquishment, 
and  Crook  returned  and  filed  on  the  claim. 

"  I  understand,   further,  that  Crook  got  the  idea  from 
reading  your  book,  wherein  you  told  of  the  preacher  and 
what  he  had  done,  although  anonymously.     It  is  also  re- 
ported that  Crook  paid  the  Elder  $300  for  the  claim. 
"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  WM.    McCONNELL." 

Jean  Baptiste  laughed  when  he  had  completed  the  letter, 
picked  up  one  of  his  books  and  looking  through  it,  found 
the  place.  "  Well,  old  boy,  I  guess  you  lost  me  more  than 
I'll  make  out  of  you ;  but  you've  given  me  what  I  ought  to 
have  had  three  years  ago ! "  He  was  silent  then,  but  his 
face  took  on  a  cold,  hard  expression,  whereupon  he  laughed 
again. 

"  N.  J.  McCarthy,  we  vied  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  we 
encountered  three  years  since.  On  both  occasions  you  had 


"  FOR  A  MESS  OF  POTTAGE  "  439 

me  at  a  disadvantage.  .  .  .  We  are  going  to  vie  again,  now ; 
but  it  will  be  upon  an  equal  basis."  So  saying,  he  looked 
before  him  at  nothing;  his  eyes  narrowed  to  mere  slits. 

An  hour  later  his  grip  was  packed.  He  went  that  after- 
noon back  to  Tripp  County.  His  three  hundred  acres  of 
wheat  had  failed,  so  he  was  unencumbered.  He  returned  to 
Winner,  and  the  next  morning  he  boarded  a  train  for  Chi- 
cago. 

And  of  the  battle  that  he  fought  with  his  august  con- 
temporary, will  be  the  continuance  of  our  story. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ACTION 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  went  directly  to  an  attorney,  a  Negro 
attorney  with  offices  in  the  loop  district,  upon  his 
arrival  in  Chicago,  and  did  not  lurk  around  the  depots 
to  keep  from  being  seen  this  time.  He  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  one  upon  whom  he  called  and  they  greeted  each 
other  cordially  when  he  walked  into  the  office. 

"  Well,  White,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  have  a  little  work 
for  you." 

"That's  what  I'm  here  to  look  after,"  said  the  other 
aimiably. 

"A  suit  —  want  to  obtain  a  judgment?" 

"  We  obtain  judgments,  in  this  old  town  every  day.  The 
question  is  — " 

"  Are  they  worth  anything  ? "  laughed  his  prospective 
client. 

After  indulging  in  a  bit  of  humor  the  which  he  was  at 
times  given  to,  his  face  cleared,  his  eye-brows  contracted 
and  he  related  the  business  upon  which  he  was  bent,  and 
questioned  the  attorney  concerning  the  law  covering  such 
cases  or  instances. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  after  looking  it  up  in  the  Illinois 
Statutes,  "  it  can  be  done." 

"  Then  we  will  begin  at  once,"  said  Baptiste  decidedly. 

"  I'll  have  the  papers  drawn  up,  and  have  the  same  ready 
for  service  tomorrow  afternoon." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  other,  handing  him  a  check  for 

440 


ACTION  441 

twenty-five  dollars  as  a  retainer,  and  straightway  left  the 
office. 

He  caught  the  State  Street  car  and  went  to  visit  his 
friends  on  Federal  Street.  They  were  delighted  and  sur- 
prised to  see  him  looking  so  well,  and  so  carefree. 

"  Why  —  what  has  happened  to  you,"  said  Mildred's 
mother,  looking  him  over  carefully  from  head  to  foot. 

"  You  infer  that  I  have  forgotten  my  troubles?  " 

"  Of  course,"  and  she  laughed. 

"  You'll  know  in  a  few  days,"  he  returned.  Soon  he 
bade  them  good-by  and  went  over  to  the  Keystone  where  he 
encountered  Speed. 

"  Well,  I  have  everything  ready  now,"  said  the  attorney 
when  Jean  called  at  his  office  the  following  afternoon. 

"  So  the  next  is  to  get  service  on  my  friend,"  said  Bap- 
tiste. 

"  That's  it.  Where  shall  we  find  him  ? "  inquired  the 
lawyer. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  you  might  call  up  his  wife  on 
Vernon  Avenue  and  find  out.  Of  course,  she  need  not 
know  what  our  business  is  with  her  old  man.  .  .  ." 

"  Of  course  not." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  talking  to  her  over  the  tele- 
phone. "  The  Elder  is  in  the  southern  part  of  the  State," 
Baptiste  could  hear. 

"  Yes,  madam ;  but  what  place.  ...  I  see.  .  .  .  He  will 
be  there  over  Sunday  you  say?  ...  I  understand.  .  .  . 
What  do  I  want  with  him?  Why,  I  have  a  little  personal 
matter  with  him.  .  .  .  Yes  .  .  .  that  is  all." 

The  attorney  turned  and  advised  him  where  the  Elder 
was,  and  would  be  there  until  after  Sunday,  and  as  that 
day  was  Wednesday,  Baptiste  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 


442 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  That's  the  town  near  where  I  first  knew  him.  I  was 
born  within  four  miles  of  it." 

"  Indeed !     Something  of  a  coincidence.' ' 

"  Indeed  so." 

"  I'll  get  these  papers  off  to  the  sheriff  down  there  on 
the  evening  train.  We'll  get  them  tomorrow  morning,  and 
should  get  service  on  him  tomorrow  afternoon." 

"  Then  I'll  see  you  about  Saturday." 

"  All  right,"  and  Jean  was  gone. 

The  little  town  near  where  Jean  Baptiste  was  born,  and 
where  he  had  met  the  man  who  was  now  his  acknowledged 
enemy,  had  not  changed  much.  Perched  on  the  banks  of 
the  Ohio,  it  still  lingered  in  a  state  of  dull  lethargy ;  loafers 
held  to  the  corners,  and  arguments  were  the  usual  daily 
routine.  When  he  had  left  the  town,  the  Odd  Fellows'  hall, 
an  old  frame  building,  three  stories  high,  had  stood  con- 
spicuously on  a  corner,  and  had  been  the  rendezvous  for 
loafers  for  years  untold.  This  had  been  torn  down  and  re- 
placed since  by  a  more  commanding  brick  structure,  at  the 
front  of  which  a  shed  spread  over  the  walk  and  made  wel- 
come shade  in  the  afternoon.  And  under  it  on  benches  the 
usual  crowd  gathered  reposing  comfortably  thereunder 
from  day  to  day.  Under  it  the  preachers  sometimes  paused 
on  their  return  from  the  postoffice  where  they  received  their 
mail  every  afternoon.  And  it  was  the  afternoon  train  that 
brought  the  papers  for  N.  Justine  McCarthy.  The  sheriff 
who  happened  at  the  postoffice  at  the  same  time  the  Elder 
did,  received  them,  and  upon  his  return  to  his  office  in  the 
court  house,  laid  the  mail  on  his  desk  and  went  at  once  to 
serve  the  papers. 

He  knew  that  Odd  Fellows'  hall  was  where  Negroes 
might  be  easily  found ;  at  least  the  information  as  to  the 


ACTION  443 

whereabouts  of  any  particular  one  might  be  obtained.  So 
to  that  spot  he  went  directly. 

It  so  happened  that  a  large  crowd  of  Negroes  were  gath- 
ered there  this  particular  afternoon,  and  that  the  Reverend 
had  paused  there  on  his  way  from  the  postoffice  to  listen 
to  the  heated  argument  that  was  a  daily  diversion.  At  that 
moment  the  sheriff  came  up,  listened  a  moment  to  the  usual 
harangue,  and  then  inquired  aloud  for  Rev.  N.  J.  Mc- 
Carthy. When  the  crowd  saw  who  he  was  the  argument 
desisted  forthwith,  the  crowd  became  quiet  and  respectful, 
moreover  expectant. 

"  You  refer  to  me?  "  said  the  Elder,  and  wondered  what 
the  sheriff  could  possibly  want  with  him. 

"  N.  J.  McCarthy?"  the  other  repeated. 

"  That's  me,"  replied  the  Elder.  The  crowd  looked  on 
with  curious  interest. 

"  Some  papers,"  and  handed  him  the  same,  turned  on  his 
heel  and  went  his  way. 

The  Reverend  went  down  the  street  later  reading  the 
papers.  He  had  never  had  any  experience  in  legal  pro- 
ceedings, and  knew  little  of  such,  but  he  understood  the 
papers  and  was  thoroughly  angry. 

"  Well,"  greeted  the  attorney,  "  got  service  right  off  on 
your  friend." 

"Good!" 

"  Yes,  got  my  return,  and  now  we  may  as  well  draw  up 
the  complaint." 

This  they  did,  but  in  the  meantime,  while  passing  down- 
town, Glavis  had  espied  Baptiste.  Thinking  that  he  was 
on  another  mission  of  trying  to  persuade  his  wife  to  return, 
and  having  been  loyal  to  the  Reverend  in  his  fight  on  Bap- 
tiste, he  went  at  once  to  advise  her  of  the  fact. 


444  THE  HOMESTEADER 

Orlean  had  secured  a  position  in  a  ladies'  tailoring  estab- 
lishment at  five  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a  week,  and  there  he 
went.  She  was  out  so  he  did  not  get  to  tell  her  that  her 
husband  was  in  town.  Since  the  selling  of  her  homestead 
the  entire  family  had  been  apprehensive  of  him.  They  ap- 
preciated by  now  that  he  was  not  the  kind  to  give  up  with- 
out a  fight,  therefore  they  were  on  the  lookout. 

in  some  way  the  Negro  papers  got  hold  of  enough  of  it 
to  give  the  Elder  a  great  deal  of  free  advertising;  but  since 
McCarthys  did  not  get  the  papers,  they  knew  nothing  of  it 
until  the  next  morning  which  was  Sunday.  That  morning 
they  espied  a  copy  of  the  paper  ,in  their  mail  box.  They 
never  knew  how  it  got  there,  but  thinking  it  was  by  mis- 
take, Glavis  took  it  into  the  house  and  spread  it  out. 

Pandemonium  reigned  when  they  had  read  the  account, 
and  in  the  same  hour  they  received  a  special  from  the  Elder 
announcing  that  he  was  leaving  for  Chicago  that  night. 
That  would  place  him  in  the  city  the  following  morning,  and 
they  were  anxious  all  that  day. 

It  was  the  talk  of  Dark  Chicago  that  day,  and  for  days 
and  weeks  following.  Moreover,  it  circulated  over  all  the 
state  where  the  Elder  was  well  known,  and  gave  the  gossips 
great  food  for  delight. 

The  Elder  arrived  the  next  morning,  and  after  being 
greeted  by  the  family,  with  Glavis,  went  at  once  to  a  white 
attorney.  They  laid  the  case  before  him. 

"  And  so  you  are  sued  for  ten  thousand  dollars,"  said  the 
attorney,  "  and  by  your  son-in-law  ?  " 

"  It  seems  that  way,"  replied  the  Elder.  "  And  to  me  it 
looks  like  a  joke." 

"How  so?" 

"  Did  you  ever  know  a  Negro  preacher  that  was  worth 
such  an  amount?" 


ACTION  445 

The  attorney  shared  the  obvious  joke  with  his  prospective 
client  and  Glavis,  and  then  took  on  a  rather  serious  expres- 
sion. 

"  And  you  are  not  worth  ten  thousand  ?  " 

"Lord,  no!" 

The  other  bit  the  cigar  he  held  between  his  teeth,  got  up 
and  brought  a  statute  from  among  his  many  volumes,  glanced 
through  it,  and  stopped  at  a  page  and  read  it. 

He  returned  the  book  to  its  place  and  came  back  and  sat 
down. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  inquired  the  Elder,  still 
seeming  to  take  it  as  a  joke. 

"  Have  you  ever  considered  the  outcome  in  case  he  should 
get  a  judgment  against  you?  He  accuses  you  of  having 
alienated  the  affections  of  his  wife,  your  daughter." 

"  Granting  that  he  secured  a  judgment?" 

"  And  you  could  not  pay  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  could  not." 

"  Then  he  could  remand  you  to  jail  for  six  months  by 
paying  your  keep." 

When  the  Elder,  accompanied  by  Glavis,  returned  home, 
both  understood  Jean  Baptiste  a  little  better  than  they  had 
ever  before.  , 


I 


CHAPTER  IX 

GOSSIP 

«f~'VE  BEEN  over  to  the  McCarthys  today,"  cried  Mil- 
dred Merrill,  greeting  her  mother,  as  she  returned 
home  the  Sunday  following  the  riling  of  the  suit. 
"  And,  oh,  mama,  they  are  certainly  excited  over  there !  " 

"  Mm !  Guess  they'll  understand  that  Jean  Baptiste  bet- 
ter now.  Because  he  had  wished  to  settle  their  difficulties 
—  if  there  were  any  —  like  a  man,  they  thought  he  was 
afraid  of  the  Reverend." 

"  That  was  it  —  positively !  " 

"  What  was  the  conversation  ?  " 

"Of  course  it  was  Ethel  who  was  making  the  most  of  the 
noise." 

"  Naturally." 

"  And  she  made  some  noise !  " 

"  I'd  wager." 

"  To  begin  with,  they  didn't  know  Jean  had  sued  the 
Reverend  until  they  read  it  in  the  paper." 

"  Is  that  so !  " 

"  Yes !    You  see,  it  was  like  this.     Orlean  sold  her  farm." 

"  Gave  it  away." 

"  Quite  likely." 

"  It  was  so.  Why  I  understand  that  Baptiste  had  paid 
over  thirty-five  hundred  dollars  into  it,  and  that  the  place 
was  supposed  to  be  worth  about  forty  dollars  an  acre,  with 
one  hundred  sixty  acres  bringing  the  sum  of  sixty- four  hun- 

446 


GOSSIP  447 

dred  dollars.  That  insurance  companies  would  lend  two 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars  on  the  place  if  she  had  proved 
up  on  the  same  as  other  people  were  doing  and  had  done, 
and  secured  a  patent." 

"  Isn't  that  a  shame !  " 

"Nigga's!" 

"  Negroes  proper !  " 

"Well,  what  did  they  say?" 

"  Oh,  yes !     Orlean  sold  her  farm  some  time  ago." 

"  For  three  hundred  dollars." 

"  Is  that  all  she  received?" 

"  Every  cent." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that !  " 

"  It  was  the  Reverend's  work,  of  course." 

"  That  dirty  old  rascal." 

"  Ignorant  into  the  bargain." 

"  If  I  were  Baptiste  I'd  kill  him." 

"  That  would  do  no  good." 

"  No,  I  guess  not." 

"  Would  make  him  appear  a  martyr,  also." 

"  Well,  ever  since  Orlean  sold  her  place,  you  see,  they 
have  been  uneasy." 

"  I  guess  so." 

"  So  they  had  been  sort  of  looking  to  hear  from  him." 

"  And  they  have." 

Mildred  laughed. 

"  And  they'll  hear  from  him  some  more !  " 

Both  laughed. 

"  Now,  Orlean  heard  that  Jean  was  in  town  before  the 
rest  of  the  family  did,  and  told  me  so." 

"  She's  waited  a  long  time  to  tell  other  people  things  she 
hasn't  told  the  folks  first.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,"  thoughtfully.     "  Anyhow,  Glavis  met  Baptiste  on 


448  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  streets  downtown,  and,  of  course,  Glavis,  not  knowing 
Baptiste's  mission,  thought  he  was  here  after  Orlean  again." 

"  Just  like  him." 

"  The  truth." 

"  He  was  by  here  awhile  ago." 

"He  was?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I'll  tell  you  about  that  later.     Go  on." 

"  When  he  met  Jean  on  the  street  —  rather,  after,  he  goes 
around  to  where  Orlean  worked  to  warn  her." 

"  Sneak ! " 

"  But  Orlean  was  out." 

"Yes?" 

"  So  when  she  returned,  and  was  told  that  a  colored  man 
had  called  and  inquired  for  her,  she  — " 

"  Thought  it  had  been  Baptiste." 

"  Yes." 

"  I'll  try  to  quit  interrupting  you." 

"  Well,  Orlean  told  me  that  she  was  provoked.  She 
wished  that  Jean  would  not  be  calling  at  where  she  worked 
to  bother  her." 

"  She  got  fooled  —  excuse  me !  " 

"  But  she  didn't  say  anything  to  the  folks  about  it,  and 
they  knew  nothing  of  his  presence  in  town  —  Glavis  didn't 
tell  it  seems,  either  —  until  Sunday  morning." 

"Indeed!" 

"  No,  none  of  them  had  gone  out  Saturday  night,  so  they 
hadn't  heard  any  of  the  talk  that  was  going  the  rounds." 

"  Well,  Glavis  went  outside  Sunday  morning  and  found 
the  Defender  in  the  mail  box." 

"So?" 

"  You  see,  they  do  not  subscribe  for  it,  but  the  people 
next  door  get  it  — " 


GOSSIP 


449 


"  And  knowing  they  were  not  subscribers,  they  take  the 
paper  and  place  it  where  they  could  get  it." 

Mildred  laughed. 

"  So,"  resumed  Mildred,  "  when  they  saw  the  paper,  all 
was  excitement." 

"  Goody !  " 

"  So  Glavis  (he  is  the  Reverend's  faithful  lieutenant, 
you  know),  went  out  to  look  up  Baptiste  and  have  a  talk 
with  him." 

"Ump!" 

"  He  didn't  find  him." 

"  That  was  how  he  happened  by  here." 

"  But  the  funny  part  about  it  is,  that  they  don't  know 
what  Baptiste  is  up  to.  They  don't  know  that  if  he  se- 
cures a  judgment,  he  can  remand  the  Elder  to  jail  for  six 
months." 

"  Now  won't  there  be  some  excitement  when  they  learn !  " 

Mildred  laughed  again,  her  mother  joined  her. 

"  But  getting  back  to  Ethel." 

"  Tell  me  about  her." 

"  Oh,  she  was  on  the  war  path.  '  You  see/  she  cried, 
standing  over  Orlean.  '  You  see  what  you've  done  by  your 
hard-headedness.  I  told  you  all  the  time  not  to  marry  that 
man!' 

"Wouldn't  that  disgust  you!" 

"  '  But  you  would  go  ahead  and  marry  him !  You  would 
go  ahead  and  marry  him,  after  all  papa  and  /  tried  to  per- 
suade you  not  to !  And  now !  You  are  going  to  kill  your 
father;  going  to  kill  your  poor  old  father.'  Orlean  just 
hung  her  head  like  a  silly  and  took  it.  '  Yes,'  went  on 
Ethel,  turning  her  little  slender  body  around  and  twisting 
her  jaws  as  if  to  grind  it  out.  '  You  got  him  all  mixed  up 


450 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


with  that  nigga',  and  here  he  comes  in  here  and  sues  him. 
Think  of  it!  Sues  him!  And  now  all  the  nigga's  in  Chi- 
cago have  the  laugh  on  us  —  we  daren't  show  our  faces  in 
the  street ! 

"  '  And  what  has  he  done  it  for  ? '  '  But,  Ethel,'  Orlean 
protested,  '  Papa  isn't  worth  anything.  He  can't  do  any- 
thing with  papa  if  he  gets  a  judgment.'  '  What  do  you 
know  about  judgments,'  Ethel  flew  up.  Well,'  said  Or- 
lean, '  I  recall  hearing  Jean  say  that  if  a  man  was  worth 
nothing,  then  a  judgment  was  of  little  or  no  good.'  '  You 
heard  Jean  say  it ! '  screamed  Ethel,  looking  at  Orlean  se- 
verely. And  then  she  turned  to  me.  '  Do  you  know,  Mil- 
dred/ she  rang  out,  '  This  fool  woman  loves  that  man  yet. 
Yes.  Y-e-s !  Loves  him  yet  and  would  go  back  to  him  to- 
morrow if  it  wasn't  for  us ! ' ' 

"  Doesn't  it  beat  anything  you  ever  saw ! " 

Mildred  laughed  again  as-  she  paused  for  breath. 

"  Well,  Ethel  went  on :  '  And  don't  you  think  that  nigga' 
is  a  fool.  No,  no!  Never!  That's  a  scheming  nigga'. 
He's  the  schemingest  nigga'  in  the  world !  He  knows  what 
he's  about.  Believe  me!  He  knows  papa  isn't  worth  any- 
thing. And,  besides,  he  isn't  after  money,  he's  after  papa. 
He  don't  want  no  money.  A  scheming  nigga'  like  him  can 
make  all  the  money  he  wants.  Oh,  yes !  He's  up  to  some- 
thing else/  " 

"  Seems  they  are  willing  to  admit  very  readily  now  that 
which  they  were  not  as  long  as  he  tried  to  deal  with  them 
like  a  man/' 

"I  should  think  so,"  returned  Mildred.  "Well,  Ethel 
was  so  excited  that  she  walked  up  and  down  the  floor  in  a 
rage.  Every  little  while  she  would  stop  before  me,  and 
glare  into  my  face :  '  But  what  can  he  do,  what  can  he  do ! ' 
'  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  Ethel,'  I  replied.  '  Yes,  you 


GOSSIP  451 

have,  yes,  you  have !  You  know !  I  know  you  and  I  know 
Jean  Baptiste !  He  never  comes  to  Chicago  without  com- 
ing to  see  you  all.  He's  told  you  what  he's  up  to,  and  I 
know  it!  Oh,  that  nigga' ! ' 

"  I  looked  at  Orlean,  and  she  sat  by  looking  like  the  man 
who  has  murdered  his  wife  and  regrets  it.  When  she  met 
my  eyes  she  sighed,  and  then  said :  '  Do  you  think  he  can 
hurt  papa,  Mildred?  I'm  worried.  You  see,  I  know  Jean 
some.  He's  shrewd,  Jean  is  very  shrewd.'  I  confess  that 
I  was  rather  uncomfortable,  knowing  what  I  did.  So  hop- 
ing to  find  some  way  to  get  out  of  it,  I  suggested  that  they 
walk  out.  '  No,'  exclaimed  Ethel.  '  I'm  afraid  I'll  run  into 
that  nigga'.' " 

"  When  do  they  look  for  the  Reverend  in?" 

"  In  the  morning.  They  are  afraid  to  go  out  until  he 
comes." 

"  I'd  like  to  be  around  there  when  they  found  out  what 
Jean  is  up  to." 

Mildred  laughed  again,  and  then  cried :  "  And  oh,  yes,  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  Orlean  asked  me  whether  Jean  came 
direct  from  the  farm  here." 

"What  did  you  tell  her?" 

"  Why,  I  said  I  thought  he  was  visiting  down  in  Kansas 
before  coming  here." 

"  Hump." 

"  She  said :  '  I  guess  he  was  calling  on  Miss  Irene 
Grey.' " 

Her  mother  giggled. 

"  I  said  I  thought  he  remarked  something  about  having 
visited  there,  whereupon  Orlean  said :  '  lie  ought  to  have 
married  her.' " 

11  Jealousy." 

"  Yes,  that  was  it." 


452  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Look!  There  is  Glavis,"  cried  Mildred's  mother, 
pointing  to  his  figure  crossing  the  street. 

"  Now  for  some  fun,"  said  Mildred,  whereupon,  both 
feigned  sleepiness,  and  prepared  for  some  good  interesting 
gossip. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Glavis,"  exclaimed  Mildred,  answering  the  rap 
on  the  door  and  admitting  him. 

"  And  how  is  everybody  ?  "  asked  Glavis,  coming  in  with 
his  head  bared,  and  smiling  in  his  usual  way. 

"  Fine,  Mr.  Glavis,"  replied  Mildred's  mother,  arising  to 
greet  him  for  the  second  time  that  day. 

"  And  where  is  my  friend,  Baptiste?  "  said  Glavis.  "  I've 
just  come  from  the  Keystone,  and  while  he  stops  there,  I  can 
never  catch  him  in." 

"  He  has  not  been  here  today,  Glavis,"  replied  Mildred. 

"  That's  funny.     I'd  certainly  like  to  see  him." 

"  Why  would  you  want  to  see  him  ?  "  inquired  Mildred's 
mother. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  see  him,  of  course,  about  all  this  scandal 
that's  in  the  air." 

"  Hump !  This  appears  to  be  the  first  time  that  you  have 
wanted  to  see  him  since  your  father-in-law  brought  Orlean 
home." 

"  Well,  of  course,"  said  Glavis,  a  little  embarrassed. 
"  It  has  always  been  a  bad  affair.  A  bad  affair,  and  I  cer- 
tainly have  wished  Orlean  would  have  kept  us  out  of  all  the 
mess." 

"  Why  not  say  you  wished  the  Reverend  had  kept  you  out 
of  all  the  mess,"  ventured  Mildred's  mother,  who  was  out  of 
patience  with  their  conduct. 

"  Well,  it's  rather  awkward.  Baptiste  is  a  little  in  fault 
himself." 

"How's  that?" 


GOSSIP  453 

"  Oh,  he  sorter  had  it  in  for  father  before  he  even  married 
Orlean.  He  didn't  come  into  the  family  like  /  did." 

Mildred  and  her  mother  regarded  each  other  as  Glavis 
went  on  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  Baptiste  is  a  good  fellow,  and  I  have  always  rather 
liked  him.  But  he  has  always  had  it  in  for  father;  has 
never  treated  him  as  I  have.  ...  If  he  would  have,  I'm 
sure  we  would  not  be  the  bone  of  this  scandal." 

"  It  seems  that  this  enmity  between  your  '  father '  and 
Baptiste,  begun  way  back  in  the  southern  part  of  this  state, 
when  Baptiste  was  a  small  boy.  .  .  ." 

"  I've  heard  something  concerning  that,  but  _of  course  he 
oughtn't  hold  such  things  against  a  man  when  he  has  grown 
up." 

"  You  seem  to  hold  Baptiste  in  fault  for  everything,  when 
it's  common  knowledge,  from  'what  I  can  hear,  Glavis," 
argued  Mildred's  mother,  "  that  the  Elder  went  up  there 
and  just  broke  Orlean  and  Baptiste  up;  made  her  sign  his 
name  to  a  check  for  a  big  sum  of  money  —  and  a  whole  lot 
of  other  things.  How  do  you  account  for  or  explain  that?  " 

"  Well,  Baptiste  could  have  settled  this  without  all  that. 
If  he'd  come  and  seen  me  before  starting  this  suit,"  Glavis 
was  evasive,  "  I  would  have  had  him  and  Orlean  meet  and 
reason  their  differences  out  together." 

"  Why  have  you  waited  so  long  to  take  such  action, 
Glavis?  You  had  years  almost  to  have  gotten  them  to- 
gether —  to  have  been  at  least  fair  to  Baptiste.  As  it  is,  you 
have  treated  —  all  of  you  —  Baptiste  like  a  dog,  like  a  dog. 
And  because  he  tried  to  settle  an  affair  like  it  ought  to  have 
been  settled,  you  just  ground  him  —  pride  and  alLright  into 
the  ditch." 

Glavis  winced  under  the  fusillade  with  which  the  elder 
lady  of  the  house  bombarded  him. 


454  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  And  now  after  you  do  him  all  the  injury  you  can,  you 
cry  about  him  making  a  scandal !  Just  because  he'  didn't 
come  around  again  a  whining  like  the  dog  you  have  tried 
to  make  him,  you  profess  to  be  shocked  at  his  conduct. 
Moreover,  you  had  Orlean  to  give  away  the  farm  he  gave 
her,  and  from  what  I  can  hear,  to  the  man  that  tried  every 
way  known  to  law  to  beat  her  out  of  it  and  failed.  And 
at  Baptiste's  expense !  " 

Glavis  was  very  uncomfortable.  He  shifted  uneasily, 
while  his  handkerchief  was  kept  busy  mopping  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  brow. 

"  I  heard  that  the  Reverend  just  scored  the  man  about 
trying  to  beat  poor  Orlean  out  of  her  place:  Preached  a 
great  sermon  on  the  evil  and  intriguing  of  the  white  race, 
and  just  gave  that  man,  a  banker,  the  devil.  Then  upon  top 
of  that  he  comes  down  here  to  Chicago  and  sends  your 
'  father '  the  money  to  come  here  from  Cairo  to  sell  him  the 
place  that  Baptiste  was  man  enough  to  trust  her  with  for 
nothing.  I  can't  figure  out  where  any  of  you  have  any  cry 
coming." 

"  Well,"  said  Glavis,  rising,  "  I  want  to  see  Baptiste  any- 
how. If  you  see  him,  tell  him  to  come  over  to  the  house." 

"  No,  Glavis,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  I  oughtn't 
to  be  gossiping  as  I  have  been ;  but  I  have  known  Baptiste 
since  he  was  a  little  boy,  and  I  just  can't  help  protesting  —  as 
I  have  always  heretofore  protested,  about  the  way  you  people 
have  treated  him." 

"  Well,  I  guess  Baptiste  hates  all  of  us  enough  to  make 
up." 

"  Baptiste  has  nothing  against  any  one  in  that  house  over 
there  but  your  '  father/  But  there  would  be  no  use  in  my 
telling  him  to  call  over  there.  No  use  at  all,  for  let  me  tell 
you,"  she  said,  following  him  to  the  door ;  "  The  day  of 


GOSSIP 


455 


Baptiste  beholding  unto  you  for  his  wife  is  past.  I  don't 
think  he  wants  Orlean  any  more,  and  don't  blame  him  after 
what  she  has  allowed  to  happen  to  him  through  her  lack  of 
womanhood.  Nawsiree,  Baptiste  didn't  come  into  Chicago 
this  time  crying,  he  came  here  like  a  man,  and  it's  the  man 
in  him  with  which  you'll  have  to  fight  now." 

"Oh,  well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Glavis,  taking  a  little 
courage,  "  I  don't  think  he  is  so  wise  after  all.  Any  man 
that  will  sue  a  man  like  father  for  ten  thousand  dollars, 
wouldn't  seem  so  wise." 

"  Well,"  returned  the  elder  lady,  "  Perhaps  you  had 
better  wait  until  you  see  a  lawyer." 


CHAPTER  X 

A  DISCOVERY  —  AND   A   SURPRISE 

JEAN  BAPTISTE  called  by  to  see  the  Merrills  before 
leaving  the  city,  and  took  Mildred  and  her  mother  one 
afternoon  to  a  matinee  at  the  Colonial  theatre.  It  was 
a  musical  repertoire,  and  a  delightful  entertainment.  Be- 
fore one  of  the  numbers  was  to  appear,  the  director  of  the 
orchestra  came  upon  the  stage  and  announced : 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen :  If  I  may  have  your  kind  at- 
tention, I  wish  to  announce  that  the  next  number  is  an 
extraordinary  specialty.  Miss  Inez  Maryland,  the  young 
prima  donna  who  has  made  considerable  of  a  reputation  by 
her  beautiful  singing  in  the  last  year,  will  this  afternoon 
sing  in  an  introduction,  a  song  that  is  destined  by  the  critics 
to  be  one  of  the  most  popular  of  recent  production." 
Whereat,  he  stepped  to  one  side,  and  led  upon  the  stage,  a 
charming  blonde  who  was  greeted  profusely. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  you  meet  Miss  Maryland,  who  will 
now  sing  the  discovery  of  the  season,  O,  My  Homesteader, 
by  Miss  Agnes  Stewart." 

In  the  moment  Jean  Baptiste  did  not  quite  recall  the  name, 
or  rather,  he  did  not  connect  it  with  an  instance  in  his  life ; 
but  as  the  sweet  mezzo  soprano  voice,  combined  with 
the  strains  of  the  orchestra,  floated  out  over  the  audience, 
the  years  gone  by,  to  him  were  recalled.  He  listened 
to  it  with  a  peculiar  and  growing  enchantment,  and 
the  night  he  had  lain  upon  the  ground  and  would  have 

456 


A  DISCOVERY  — AND  A  SURPRISE        457 

frozen,  but  for  the  now  composer,  came  fresh  again  into  his 
mind. 

"  Beautiful." 

"  Wonderful." 

"  Grand !  "  came  to  his  ears  from  over  all  the  theatre  and 
then  followed  the  storm  of  applause.  Again  and  again  did 
the  singer  have  to  return  to  satisfy  the  audience  before  her, 
and  when  the  crowds  poured  into  the  street  at  the  close  of 
the  performance,  every  one  seemed  to  be  humming  the  tune 
that  had  that  afternoon  began  its  initial  success. 

As  it  would  take  nine  months  or  a  year  for  the  suit  to 
come  to  trial,  Jean  resumed  his  efforts  in  the  book  business, 
and  was  able  by  borrowing  a  little,  to  meet  the  interest  and 
taxes  on  the  foreclosed  property,  and  was  given  the  cus- 
tomary year's  extension. 

He  traveled  now  from  town  to  town,  from  city  to  city, 
and  found  agents  for  his  book,  and  was  able  in  a  small  way 
to  recuperate  his  finances.  He  hired  an  engine  to  plow  all 
his  land  that  was  not  prepared,  besides  renting  a  little  more, 
and  also  took  a  flier  in  wheat.  The  war  abroad  had  been 
going  on  a  year,  and  he  conceived  that  if  it  "  happened  " 
to  rain  at  the  right  time  he  might  get  a  crop  and  redeem  his 
land.  At  least,  he  could  lose  only  what  he  put  into  it  by 
risking  the  same,  so  he  took  the  chance.  So  with  all  he 
could  get  hold  of  until  the  last  days  of  October  of  that 
year,  he  put  it  into  winter  wheat  on  his  land,  and  succeeded 
in  getting  over  700  acres  seeded. 

And  everywhere  he  went,  the  people  were  playing  and 
singing  O,  My  Homesteader.  Never,  whether  it  was  fifty 
times  a  day,  or  one,  could  he  seem  to  tire  of  hearing  it. 
At  the  stores  he  saw  hundreds  of  copies  of  it,  and  in  every 
home  it  was.  And  always  it  took  him  back  to  his  youthful 
days  in  the  land  where  he  had  gone  with  the  great  hope. 


458  THE  HOMESTEADER 

And  then  one  day  he  saw  a  picture  of  her.  It  was  in  a 
musical  review.  It  spoke  at  length  of  her,  and  of  the  simple 
life  she  had  lived.  That  she  was  a  product  of  the  prairies 
and  a  wonderful  future  was  in  store  for  her  because  of  the 
fact  that  her  work  was  original. 

So  the  winter  passed  and  springtime  came  again  with  all 
its  beauty,  and  he  continued  in  his  book  business.  He  made 
a  trip  to  Gregory  and  Winner  to  see  what  the  prospects  were 
again  in  the  Northwest.  The  winter  for  the  wheat,  he  was 
cheered  to  learn,  had  been  ideal;  but  the  spring  was  dry, 
and  that  was  not  to  the  wheat's  advantage.  However,  he 
had  the  best  prospects  he  had  had  for  years,  and  he  re- 
turned to  the  book  business  with  renewed  hope. 

And  now  we  are  compelled  by  the  course  of  events  to  re«- 
turn  to  certain  characters  who  were  conspicuous  in  the 
early  part  of  our  story. 

When  Jack  Stewart  left  the  farm  he  had  rented  near  the 
property  of  Jean  Baptiste  and  went  West  and  took  a  home- 
stead and  had  George  and  Bill  and  Agnes  to  do  likewise,  he 
was  obsessed  with  a  dream  that  riches  had  come  to  him  at 
last.  Agnes  was  delighted  with  the  prospects,  also,  and  so 
they  looked  forward  to  a  great  future  in  the  new  land. 

But  there  was  something  that  troubled  Jack  Stewart,  and 
for  days  when  alone  he  would  shake  his  head  and  cry: 
"  Dang  it.  Dang  it !  I  oughtn't  to  have  let  it  go  that  far, 
dang  it !  "  But  he  had  kept  what  was  now  the  cause  of  his 
worry  to  himself  so  long  that  he  would  not  bring  himself  to 
confess  it  even  to  Agnes  after  what  had  occurred.  But 
never  did  he  forget  Jean  Baptiste,  and  to  Agnes  he  would 
mention  him  quite  often. 

"  By  the  way,  my  girl,"  he  said  one  day  when  they  were 
settled  on  their  claims,  staying  mostly  on  his,  of  course,  for 


A  DISCOVERY  —  AND  A  SURPRISE 


459 


the  prospects  were  hopeful.  "  Do  you  know  that  I  never 
did  learn  who  saved  me  from  that  foreclosure.  No,  sir,  I 
never  did!  I  paid  the  note  and  was  so  glad  that  it  was 
paid,  that  I  tore  it  up  and  forgot  the  whole  matter. 

"  Now  who  do  you  reckon  it  was  that  interceded  for  me?  " 

She  paused  and  looked  up  from  her  sewing,  and  then  bent 
over  it  again,  as  she  said : 

"  Jean  Baptiste." 

"  Jean  Baptiste !  "  he  exclaimed  incredibly. 

"  It  was  him." 

"  Why  the  stinkin'  rascal,  he  never  told  me !  " 

She  was  silent. 

"  And  it  was  him  that  came  to  my  assistance,"  the  other 
mused  reflectively.  "  Well,  now  since  I  come  to  recall  him, 
it  was  just  like  him  to  do  something  like  that  and  keep  it  to 
himself.  Well,  well,  I  do  say ! "  He  paused  then,  and 
looked  down  at  the  toe  of  his  boot.  Suddenly  he  looked  up, 
and  concentrated  his  gaze  on  Agnes. 

"  And  you  knew  it  all  the  time.     He  told  you." 

"  He  didn't  tell  me." 

"Didn't  tell  you!" 

"  I  knew  it  when  you  returned  home  that  morning." 

"  Well,  well.  .  .  ." 

"  I  was  positive  the  administrator  hadn't  granted  you  an 
extension,  nor  wouldn't  have,  so  it  must  have  been  some 
one  near.  So  who  else  could  it  have  been  but  Jean  Bap- 
tiste." 

"  Of  course  not,  now  that  I  recall  it;  but  did  you  tell  him 
about  it?" 

Her  eyes  had  business  in  her  lap  at  the  moment,  very 
much  business.  She  saw  the  sewing  and  she  didn't  see  it. 
What  she  was  seeing  again  was  what  had  happened  one  day 
when  she  had  gone  to  carry  his  and  her  brother's  luncheon. 


460  THE  HOMESTEADER 

...  It  passed  before  her,  as  it  had  done  many  times  since. 
Never,  she  knew,  would  she  be  able  to  forget  that  day,  that 
day  when  the  harvest  was  on,  and  he  had  said  sweet  words 
to  her.  ...  It  was  all  past  now,  forever,  but  it  was  as  fresh 
as  the  day  it  was  done. 

She  understood  why  he  had  gone  away,  and  when  he  re- 
turned ana  she  had  seen  his  face  she  understood  then  his 
sacrifice.  She  knew  that  the  man's  honor,  his  respect  for 
his  race  and  their  struggle  had  brought  him  to  commit 
the  sacrifice.  And  strangely,  she  loved  him  the  more  for 
it.  It  had  been  an  evidence  of  his  great  courage,  the  great 
strength  with  which  he  was  possessed.  It  was  strange  that 
the  only  man  she,  a  white  girl,  had  ever  loved  was  a  Negro, 
and  now  when  that  was  history,  it  seemed  to  relieve  her 
when  she  could  recall  that  he  had  been  a  man. 

"  Did  you  hear  me,  Aggie  ?  "  her  father  called  now  again. 
She  started. 

"  Why  —  yes,  father  —  I  heard  you,"  she  said,  straighten- 
ing up.  "  And  —  of  course  —  I  told  him  about  it.  .  .  ." 

"  Now  I'm  glad  to  hear  that  you  did.  It  seems  that  you 
ought  to  have  told  me  at  the  time  —  at  least  before  we  left 
there,  so  that  I  could  have  thanked  him."  He  was  silent 
for  a  time  then  and  reflective. 

"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  woman  he  married,"  he  mused 
after  a  time. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  I  am  sometimes  a  little  afraid  that  he  didn't  get  the  right 
kind  of  woman. 

"  He  was  such  a  prince  of  a  good  fellow,  that  it  would 
most  likely  have  been  his  luck  to  have  gotten  a  woman  who 
would  betray  him  in  some  way.  It  is  all  rather  strange,  for 
I  don't  think  he  loved  any  woman  but  you,  Aggie." 

He  darted  his  eyes  quickly  in  her  direction,  recalling  a 


A  DISCOVERY  —  AND  A  SURPRISE        461 

time  before  when  he  had  intimated  something  of  the  kind. 
This  time,  however,  she  did  not  cry  out,  but  continued  at 
her  sewing  as  though  he  had  not  spoken. 

As  he  slowly  walked  out,  what  was  in  his  mind  was  the 
thing  that  had  worried  him  before. 

She  looked  after  him  and  sighed.  It  was  her  effort  then 
to  forget  the  past,  and  in  so  doing,  the  inspiration  with  re- 
gard to  music  came  again,  and  developed  in  her  mind.  But 
her  efforts  had  brought  so  little  encouragement  from  those 
to  whom  she  had  submitted  her  compositions  that  she  for  a 
long  time  despaired  of  making  another  effort. 

So  it  was  not  until  the  great  drought  swept  over  the  land 
and  drove  almost  all  the  settlers  from  their  claims  in  a 
search  for  food,  that  made  her  again  resort  to  the  effort. 

The  drought  was  even  worse  in  the  part  of  the 'country 
they  now  called  home  than  it  had  been  in  Tripp  County  and 
other  parts  farther  East.  Corn  that  was  planted  under  the 
sod  one  spring  had  actually  not  sprouted  for  two  years,  for 
the  moisture  that  fell  had  never  wet  the  earth  that  deep. 
So,  after  two  years  in  which  they  came  nearer  to  starvation 
than  they  had  ever  before,  she  secured  a  position  in  a  hotel 
in  a  town  farther  West,  and  the  money  earned  thereby,  she 
gave  to  her  father  and  brothers  to  live  on. 

It  was  then  she  had  returned  to  compositions  in  a  des- 
perate effort  and  hope  to  save  them  from  disaster.  For  a 
long  time  she  met  with  the  usual  rejections,  and  it  was  a 
year  or  more  before  anything  she  composed  received  any 
notice. 

But  O,  My  Homesteader  was  an  instantaneous  success. 
While  she  still  worked  in  the  kitchen  of  the  little  hotel  in  the 
western  village,  the  royalties  came  pouring  in  upon  her  so 
fast  until  she  could  hardly  believe  it.  And  coincident  with 
the  same,  she  became  the  recipient  of  numerous  offers  from 


462  THE  HOMESTEADER 

almost  everywhere.  Most  were  for  compositions;  while 
many  were  offers  to  go  on  the  stage,  at  which  she  was  com- 
pelled to  laugh.  The  very  thought  of  her,  a  dishwasher  in 
a  country  hotel,  going  on  the  stage !  But  she  resigned  her 
position  and  went  back  to  her  father  and  brothers  on  the 
farm.  She  used  her  money  to  pay  off  their  debts  and 
started  them  to  farming,  and  made  herself  contented  with 
staying  on  as  she  had  done  before,  and  keeping  house  for 
her  father  and  the  boys.  She  refused  to  submit  any  more 
manuscripts  until  the  success  of  her  first  song  was  growing 
old,  and  then  she  released  others  which  followed  with  a 
measure  of  success. 

The  offers  from  the  East  persisted;  and  with  them, 
drought  in  the  West  continued  and  they  saw  that  trying  to 
farm  so  far  west  was,  for  the  present  time,  at  least,  imprac- 
tical. So  they  returned  to  Gregory  where  she  purchased 
the  place  they  had  lived  on.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
drought  had  been  severe  there,  also,  she  secured  the  place  at 
a.  fair  bargain,  and  they  returned  to  farming  the  summer 
following  the  publication  of  Baptiste's  book. 

When  she  read  it,  she  hardly  knew  what  to  think ;  but  it 
was  rather  unusual  she  thought,  because  he  had  told  a  true 
story  in  every  detail ;  but  had  chosen  to  leave  his  experiences 
with  her  out  of  it.  She  heard  of  him,  and  the  disaster  that 
had  overcome  him,  and  was  sorry.  She  felt  that  if  she 
could  only  help  him  in  some  way,  it  would  give  her  relief. 
And  so  the  time  passed,  and  he  came  again  into  her  life  in  a 
strange  and  mysterious  manner. 

She  was  surprised  one  day  to  receive  a  visit  in  person 
from  the  publisher  of  her  works.  She  was,  to  say  the  least, 
also  flattered.  He  had  come  direct  from  Chicago  to  per- 
suade her  to  come  to  the  city,  and  while  she  was  flattered 


A  DISCOVERY  — AND  A  SURPRISE        463 

and  was  really  anxious  to  see  the  city,  she  refrained  from 
going,  but  promised  to  write  more  music. 

In  the  months  that  followed,  he  wrote  to  her,  and  the  expe- 
rience was  new.  Then  his  letters  grew  serious,  and  later 
she  received  the  surprise.  He  came  again  to  see  her  and 
proposed.  She  hardly  knew  how  to  accept  it,  but  he  was  so 
persistent.  To  be  offered  the  love  of  a  man  of  such  a  type, 
carried  her  off  her  feet,  and  she  made  him  promise  to  wait. 

He  was  very  patient  about  it,  and  at  last  she  concluded 
that  while  she  did  not  feel  that  she  really  loved  him  yet, 
she  was  a  woman,  and  growing  no  younger,  and,  besides, 
he  was  a  successful  publisher  and  the  match  seemed  logical. 
So  after  some  months  in  which  she  tried  to  make  herself 
appear  like  the  woman  she  knew  he  wished  her  to  be,  she 
accepted,  but  left  the  date  for  their  wedding  indefinite 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   BISHOP'S    INQUISITION 

fTTlHE  REVEREND  McCARTHY  was  commonly  re- 
garded as  a  good  politician  in  church  affairs,  mean- 

-*•  ing,  that  he  was  successful  with  the  Bishop  in  being 
able  to  hold  the  office  of  Presiding  Elder  over  such  a  long 
period.  At  every  conference  other  aspirants  attempted  to 
oust  him.  But  he  had  always  held  with  the  Bishop  and  had 
succeeded  himself  annually  until  the  five-year  limit  had  ex- 
pired. At  the  end  of  this  time  he  had  usually  succeeded  in 
manipulating  matters  in  such  a  manner  that  he  had  in- 
variably been  successful  in  securing  the  same  appointment 
over  another  district  in  the  state.  Over  this  he  presided  an- 
other five  years,  and  was  then  automatically  transferred 
back  to  the  district  over  which  he  had  formerly  presided. 
For  twenty  years  he  had  been  successful  in  keeping  this  up, 
but  in  the  conference  that  was  to  convene  after  he  had  been 
sued  by  his  son-in-law,  it  became  known  and  talked  about 
that  he  would  not  be  re-appointed  to  the  Presiding  Elder- 
ship, and  would  necessarily  be  sent  to  a  charge  for  a  year  or 
more. 

Accordingly,  he  began  early  to  seek  a  charge  which  he 
was  in  position  to  know  would  be  lucrative,  since  there  were 
few  outside  the  large  churches  in  Chicago  that  would  pay 
as  well  as  the  Presiding  Eldership. 

The  fact  was,  however,  he  regretted  going  back  to  a 
charge,  for  his  former  experience  in  such  work,  in  gaining 

464 


THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION  465 

and  retaining  the  confidence  of  the  members  of  his  church 
had  not  been  ideal,  to  say  the  least.  And  again,  it  was  ex- 
pedient that  he  should  have  his  family,  especially  his  wife, 
living  in  the  town  with  him  where  he  held  the  charge. 
Perhaps  that  made  it  awkward  for  him,  as  he  was  not  ac- 
customed to  having  his  wife  in  such  close  proximity  with 
him  daily.  His  regard  for  her  was  such  that  he  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  that  close  association.  For  his  expe- 
rience had  been  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  be  in  the 
house  with  her  a  matter  of  two  days  without  losing  his  pa- 
tience and  speaking  harshly  to  her.  To  avoid  this  unpleas- 
ant domestic  state  of  affairs  it  had  been  agreed  that  Orlean 
should  be  his  housekeeper,  and  this  was  settled  on  before 
conference  —  and  before  he  had  been  sued. 

This  pending  suit,  however,  brought  added  complications. 
Ever  since  he  had  brought  Orlean  home,  he  had  been  em- 
barrassed by  gossips.  Nowhere  had  he  been  able  to  turn 
unless  some  busy-body  must  stop  him  and  inquire  with  re- 
gard to  his  daughter ;  what  was  the  matter,  etc.,  and  so  on. 
It  kept  him  explaining  and  re-explaining,  a  subject  that  was 
to  say  the  least,  delicate.  He  had,  however,  succeeded  in 
explaining  and  conveying  the  impression  that  the  man  she 
married  had  mistreated  and  neglected  her,  and  that  he  had 
been  compelled  to  go  and  get  her  in  order  to  save  her 
life.  This  was  not  satisfactory  to  him  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  he  decided  once  to  let  her  return,  but  Jean  Baptiste  not 
knowing  that  he  had  reached  such  a  decision,  had  felt  that 
his  only  chance  to  secure  her  again  was  to  keep  away  from 
her  father  —  well,  we  know  the  result  of  that  effort. 

But  inasmuch  as  that  Jean  Baptiste  had  refused  to  argue 
with  him  over  her,  he  had  used  this  as  an  excuse  to  become 
his  old  self  again,  which,  after  all,  was  so  much  easier.  So 
when  'Gene  Crook  had  approached  him  with  an  offer,  and 


466  THE  HOMESTEADER 

convinced  him  that  Baptiste  was  what  the  Elder  knew  he 
was  not  (because  the  Elder  was  easily  to  be  convinced  of 
anything  toward  the  detriment  of  his  adversary)  he  easily 
secured  the  place  and  the  Elder  had  felt  himself  ahead. 
Three  hundred  dollars  was  a  great  deal  of  money  to  him, 
and  went  a  long  way  in  taking  up  the  payments  in  which 
they  were  in  arrears  on  the  home  they  were  buying  in  Chi- 
cago. True,  it  twitched  his  conscience,  but  N.  J.  McCarthy 
had  a  practice  —  long  in  effect  —  of  crucifying  conscience. 
So  when  he  had  closed  the  deal  —  and  had  been  reimbursed 
for  his  traveling  expenses  —  he  went  directly  back  to  his 
work,  and  had  not  been  in  the  city  since  until  called  in  on  the 
suit. 

When  he  left  the  lawyer's  office  and  returned  home,  he 
discussed  the  matter  with  Glavis,  who  in  turn  discussed 
the  matter  with  white  friends  who  advised  him  how  to 
answer  to  the  charge.  Returning  to  the  lawyer's  office  they 
engaged  counsel.  It  was  very  annoying  —  more  than  ever 
—  to  the  Elder  when  he  was  required  to  put  up  twenty-five 
dollars  in  cash  as  a  retainer.  He  had  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  posing  his  way  through  in  so  many  matters  — 
letting  some  one  else  put  up  the  money,  that  when  he  was 
forced  to  part  with  that  amount  of  money  he  straightway 
appreciated  the  seriousness  of  the  situation.  It  was  no 
pleasant  anticipation  in  looking  forward  to  the  trial,  for 
there  he  would  be  compelled  to  counter  the  other  on  equal 
terms. 

He  was  very  disagreeable  about  the  house  when  he  re- 
turned home,  and  his  wife  adroitly  kept  out  of  his  sight. 
He  sought  the  street  to  walk  off  his  anger  and  perturba- 
tion, only  to  run  into  a  Mrs.  Jones,  teacher  in  the  Sunday 
school  of  one  of  the  large  Negro  churches,  and  with  whom 
he  had  been  long  acquainted.  It  was,  in  a  measure,  be- 


THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION  467 

cause  his  acquaintances  were  of  long  standing  that  gave 
them,  they  felt,  the  right  to  question  him  regarding  such 
delicate  affairs.  So  when  he  met  Mrs.  Jones,  he  doffed  his 
hat  in  his  usual  lordly  manner,  and  paused  when  she  came 
to  a  stop. 

"  Good  evening,  Reverend  Mac.,"  she  exclaimed,  and  ex- 
tended her  long,  lean  hand.  He  grasped  it,  and  bowing 
with  accustomed  dignity,  replied: 

"  Good  evening,  Sister  Jones.  I  trust  that  your  health  is 
the  best." 

"  My  health  is  good,  Reverend  Mac.  But,  say,  Reverend 
Mac.,  you  don't  look  so  well." 

"  Indeed  so,  my  dear  madame,  I  have  not  been  in  the 
best  of  health  for  some  months." 

"  Well,  well,  that  is  too  bad,  indeed.  I  hear  that  you 
have  not  been,  Reverend  Mac.  And  say,  Brother  McCarthy, 
what  is  this  I  read  in  the  paper  about  your  son-in-law  com- 
ing in  here  and  suing  you  for  breaking  up  Orlean  and  he  ?  " 

His  Majesty's  head  went  up,  while  he  colored  unseen,  and 
would  have  passed  on,  but  Mrs.  Jones  was  standing  in  such 
a  manner  that  he  was  unable  to  do  so  without  some  diffi- 
culty. 

"  The  man  is  crazy,"  he  retorted  shortly,  and  stiffened. 
But  it  took  more  than  stiffness  to  satisfy  this  gossip. 

"  Well,  I  thought  something  was  the  matter,  Reverend. 
For  you  see,  I've  heard  that  you  went  out  there  and  brought 
her  home  to  save  him  from  killing  her,  so  you  see  it  is 
rather  strange.  That  fellow,  as  a  boy  —  and  even  yet, 
when  he  is  in  Chicago  —  attends  Sunday  school  and  sits  in 
my  class,  and  I  was  rather  surprised  that  he  should  treat 
Orlean  as  it  is  said  you  said  he  did." 

Reverend  McCarthy  would  liked  very  well  to  have  moved 
on.  But  Mrs.  Jones  was  very  much  interested. 


468  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  There's  all  kind  of  talk  around  town  about  it.  They 
say  that  if  he  gets  a  judgment  against  you,  Elder,  he  will 
put  you  in  jail,  and  all  that;  but  of  course  that  couldn't  be. 
You  stand  too  well  in  the  church.  But  you  know,  Reverend, 
the  only  thing  that  looks  kind  a  bad  for  you  is,  they  say  that 
he  wouldn't  dare  start  such  a  suit  unless  he  had  good  ground 
for  action.  They  say — " 

The  Elder  had  extricated  himself  at  last,  and  now  sailed 
down  the  street  with  high  head.  "  May  the  God  crush  that 
hard-headed  bulldog  into  the  earth,"  he  muttered  between 
compressed  lips,  so  angry  that  he  could  not  see  clearly. 
"  How  long  am  I  to  be  aggravated  with  this  rotten  gossip !  " 

He  changed  his  mind  about  walking  far,  and  at  a  con- 
venient corner,  he  turned  back  toward  home.  But  when 
he  arrived  there,  he  was  confronted  with  another,  and  more 
serious  problem.  It  had  been  his  intention  before  arriving 
there,  to  arraign  his  wife  again  for  having  let  Orlean  go 
West  in  the  beginning.  But  now  he  was  confronted  with 
his  august  honorary,  the  Bishop. 

"  And,  now,  Reverend,"  said  the  Bishop,  after  they  had 
gone  through  the  usual  formalities,  "  I  am  forced  to  come 
around  to  something  that  embarrasses  me  very  much,  in  view 
of  our  long  and  intimate  relations,"  and  he  paused  to  look 
grave.  The  Reverend  tried  to  still  his  thumping  heart. 
All  his  life  he  had  been  a  coward,  he  had  bluffed  himself  into 
believing,  and  having  his  family  believe,  that  he  was  a  brave 
man,  but  Orlean  had  told  Baptiste  on  several  occasions  that 
her  father  might  have  risen  higher  in  the  church,  but  for 
his  lack  of  confidence. 

"  It  pertains  to  all  this  gossip  and  notoriety  that  is  going 
the  rounds.  I  suppose  you  are  aware  of  what  I  refer  to." 
The  other  swallowed,  and  nodded. 

"  You  can  appreciate  that  it  is  very  embarrassing  to  me, 


THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION  469 

and  to  the  church,  more,  because  I  have  struggled  to  raise 
the  standard  in  this  church.  We  have  in  the  years  gone  by 
been  subjected  to  unfair  gossip,  and  some  fair  because  of 
the  subtle  practices  of  some  of  our  ministers.  And  now, 
with  conference  convening  in  two  weeks,  it  is  very  awkward 
that  we  should  be  confronted  with  such  a  predicament  with 
regard  to  you,  one  of  our  oldest  ministers.  The  subject  is 
made  more  embarrassing  because  of  its  —  er,  rather  per- 
sonal nature.  I  would  regard  it  as  very  enlightening  if  you 
would  give  me  an  explanation  —  but,  of  course,  in  the  name 
of  the  church." 

The  Reverend  swallowed  again,  struggled  to  keep  his  eyes 
dry,  for  the  rush  of  self  pity  almost  overcame  him.  It  was, 
however,  no  time  or  place  for  self  pity.  The  Bishop  was 
not  an  emotional  man;  he  was  not  given  to  patience  with 
those  who  pitied  themselves  —  in  short,  the  Bishop  was 
very  much  of  a  cold  hearted  business  man,  notwithstanding 
his  position.  He  was  waiting  in  calm  austerity  for  the 
other's  reply. 

"  Ah-m  ahem !  "  began  the  Reverend  with  a  great  effort 
at  self  composure.  "  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  my  dear  Bishop, 
with  much  regret  that  I  am  compelled  to  explain  a  matter 
that  has  caused  me  no  end  of  grief.  To  begin  with :  It  was 
not  with  my  consent  that  my  daughter  was  allowed  to  go 
off  into  the  West  and  file  on  a  homestead." 

The  other's  face  was  like  a  tomb  upon  hearing  this. 
Indeed,  the  Elder  would  have  to  put  forth  a  more  logical 
excuse.  It  has  been  said  that  the  Bishop  was  a  practical 
man  which  in  truth  he  was,  and  the  fact  is,  he  regarded  it 
as  far  more  timely  if  a  larger  number  of  the  members  of 
his  race  in  the  city  would  have  taken  up  homesteads  in  the 
West,  than  for  them  to  have  been  frequenting  State  Street 
and  aping  the  rich.  Also,  the  Bishop  had  read  Baptiste's 


470  THE  HOMESTEADER 

book  —  although  the  Reverend  was  not  aware  of  it, —  and 
was  constrained  to  feel  that  a  man  could  not  conscientiously 
write  that  which  was  absolutely  false. 

"  But  I  came  into  the  city  here  after  a  conference  to  find 
that  my  daughter  had  been  herded  off  out  West  in  a  wild 
country  to  take  a  homestead." 

"  Now,  just  a  minute,  Reverend,"  interposed  the  Bishop 
astutely.  "  Regarding  this  claim  your  daughter  filed  on. 
What  was  the  nature  of  the  land  ?  You  have  been  over  it,  I 
dare  say." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  my  dear  Bishop !  It  was  a  piece 
of  wild,  undeveloped  land.  At  the  time  she  took  it,  it  was 
fifty  miles  or  such  a  matter  from  the  railroad.  She  gave 
birth  to  a  child  — " 

"  But,"  interposed  the  Bishop  again,  "  you  say  the  land 
was  a  considerable  distance  from  the  railroad  at  the  time 
your  daughter  filed  on  the  place?  Very  well.  Now,  Rev- 
erend, isn't  it  a  fact  that  in  the  history  of  this  country,  all 
new  countries  when  opened  to  the  settler  may  have  been 
some  distance  from  the  railroad  in  the  beginning?  For  in- 
stance, somebody  started  Chicago,  which  was  certainly  not 
the  convenient  place  then  that  it  is  now  in  which  to  live." 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  Bishop,  of  course." 

"  So  the  fact  that  the  railroad  was,  as  you  say,  fifty 
miles  away,  could  not  be  held  as  an  argument  against  it. 
Besides,  is  it  not  a  fact  that  there  were  other  people,  men 
and  women,  who  were  as  far  from  the  railroad  and  there- 
fore placed  at  an  equal  disadvantage  ?  " 

"Of  course,  of  course." 

"  Then,  my  dear  Reverend,  it  does  not  appear  to  me  that 
that  should  be  a  fact  to  be  condemned." 

"  I  have  not  condemned  it,  my  dear  Bishop.     No." 

"  Very  well,  then,  my  dear  Reverend,  please  proceed," 


THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION  471 

Now  the  interposition  of  the  Bishop,  had  rather  discon- 
certed the  Elder.  Had  he  been  allowed  to  proceed  in  the 
manner  he  had  planned  and  started  to,  he  might  have  made 
the  case  from  his  standpoint,  and  under  the  circumstances 
very  clear  to  the  Bishop.  But  the  latter's  questions  threw 
him  off  his  line,  and  he  started  again  with  some  embarrass- 
ment, and  with  the  perspiration  beginning  to  appear  around 
the  point  of  his  nose.  Appreciating,  however  that  he  was 
expected  to  explain,  he  went  resolutely  back  to  the  task. 

"  Well,  my  wife  allowed  my  daughter  to  be  taken  out 
there  and  file  on  this  land  that  this  man  had  secured  on  his 
representation  that  he  wished  to  marry  her,  and  when  I  came 
into  the  city  it  was  all  settled." 

"  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you  again,  my  dear  Elder. 
But  is  it  not  a  fact  that  Mrs.  Pruitt,  with  whom  you 
are  well  acquainted,  accompanied  your  daughter  on  this 
trip?" 

"  It  is  so,  Bishop." 

"  And  is  it  not  a  fact  that  Mrs.  Pruitt  as  well  as  your 
daughter,  explained  it  all  at  the  time  with  satisfaction  to 
you?" 

"Well,  ah  — yes,  she  did." 

"  You  admit  to  this,  then,  my  dear  Reverend  ?  " 

"  Under  the  circumstances  at  the  time,  I  was  rather  com- 
pelled to,  my  dear  Bishop." 

"  Meaning  that  since  she  had  gone  and  taken  the  land, 
you  were  morally  bound  to  look  into  and  consider  the  mat- 
ter favorably?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  explains  it." 

"  Now,  Reverend.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  a  considerable 
write-up  appeared  in  the  Chicago  Defender  shortly  after  this 
visit,  detailing  considerable,  and  with  much  illustration  re- 
garding the  trip ;  that,  in  short,  your  daughter  had  come  into 


472 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


considerable  land  and  was  regarded  as  having  been  very 
fortunate  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  my  dear  Bishop." 

"  Very  well,  Reverend.  Now  —  a  —  who  solicited  that 
write-up  ?  Did  the  editor  not  have  a  conversation  with  you 
before  the  article  appeared  ?  " 

"  I  believe  he  did,  yes,  sir.     I  think  he  did." 

"  Well,  now,  Reverend,  if  I  remember  correctly,  this 
young  man  visited  the  city  the  Christmas  following,  and  I 
was  introduced  to  him  by  you  in  this  same  room?  " 

"  I  think  so.  Yes,  Bishop,  I  remember  having  intro- 
duced him  to  you  myself." 

"  And  do  I  quote  correctly  when  I  say  that  you  called  me 
up  the  following  spring  to  perform  the  ceremony  that  made 
your  daughter  and  this  Jean  Baptiste  man  and  wife?" 

"  I  think  you  quote  correctly,  my  dear  Bishop." 

"  M-m.  Yes,  I  recall  that  I  was  indisposed  at  the  time 
and  was  very  sorry  I  could  not  perform  the  ceremony,"  said 
the  Bishop  thoughtfully,  but  more  to  himself  than  to  the 
other. 

"  Well,  now.  After  they  had  been  married  some  months, 
my  wife  visited  your  wife,  and  the  latter  seemed  to  be 
greatly  impressed  with  the  union.  I  think  if  I  am  cor- 
rectly informed  that  you  went  on  a  visit  to  them  yourself 
that  fall." 

"  I  did,  my  dear  Bishop.    Yes,  I  did." 

"  And  at  the  conference  on  your  return,  you,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  called  on  me  at  my  home  and  discussed  the  young 
man  at  considerable  length." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Bishop.     I  did  that." 

"  Yes,"  mused  the  Bishop  again  thoughtfully  and  as  if  to 
himself.  "  And  you  appeared  greatly  delighted  with  their 
union.  You  seemed  to  regard  him  as  an  extraordinary 


THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION  473 

young  man,  and,  from  what  I  have  heard,  I  have  been  in- 
clined to  feel  so  myself.  Now  it  seems  that  a  few  months 
after  you  were  speaking  in  high  praise  of  him,  you  made  a 
trip  West  and  on  your  return  brought  your  girl  home  with 
you,  and  she  has  not  since  returned  to  her  husband.  Of 
course,"  he  added  slowly,  "  that  is  your  personal  affair,  but 
since  it  has  reached  the  public,  the  church  is  concerned,  so  I 
am  ready  to  listen  to  further  explanation." 

"  I  went  out  there  and  found  my  girl  in  dire  circum- 
stances," defended  the  Elder.  "I  found  her  in  neglect;  I 
found  her  without  proper  medical  attention  —  no  nurse  was 
there  to  administer  her  needs.  In  short,  I  was  prevailed 
upon  by  my  love  and  regard  for  my  daughter's  health,  to 
expedite  the  step  I  took." 

"  Nobly  said,  Reverend,  nobly  said,"  said  the  Bishop,  and 
for  the  first  time  during  his  explanation,  the  Elder  felt  en- 
couraged. 

"  The  man  did  not  marry  her  for  love,"  the  Elder  went 
on  now  somewhat  more  confident.  "  He  did  not  marry  her 
to  make  her  happy  and  comfortable.  He  married  her  to 
secure  more  land.  It  is  true  that  I  was  impressed  with  him 
in  a  way,  because  the  man  was  rather  —  er,  inspiring,  and  I 
entertained  hopes.  Our  race  does  not  possess  successful 
men  in  such  a  number  that  we  can  be  oblivious  to  apparent 
success  as  on  a  young  man's  part.  This  man  seemed  to  be 
such  a  man  —  in  fact,  I  grant  him  that.  The  man  was  popu- 
lar with  those  who  knew  him ;  he  was  a  pusher ;  but  he  w as 
so  ambitious  to  get  rich  that  he  was  in  the  act  of  killing  my 
child  to  accomplish  his  ends."  The  Reverend  finished  this 
with  a  touch  of  emotion  that  made  the  other  nod  thought- 
fully. And  while  he  paused  to  gather  force  and  words  for 
further  justification  of  his  interposition,  the  Bishop  said: 

"  I  note  by  the  reports  in  the  newspaper  that  you  are 


474  THE  HOMESTEADER 

accused  of  having  coerced  the  girl ;  that  you  had  her  write 
her  husband's  name  on  a  check  with  which  you  secured 
the  money  to  bring  her  from  the  West." 

"  He  gave  my  daughter  the  privilege  of  securing  money 
by  such  a  method  for  her  needs,  and  it  was  not  I  that  had 
her  do  any  such  a  thing." 

"  But  it  was  —  er,  rather  —  a  little  irregular,  was  it  not  ? 
It  does  not  seem  reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  granted  her 
the  privilege  to  sign  his  name  to  checks  to  secure  money 
with  which  to  leave  him  ?  "  The  question  was  put  rather 
testily  and  caused  the  other  to  shift  uncomfortably  before 
making  answer. 

"  Well,  under  the  circumstances,  methods  had  to  be  re- 
sorted to  —  er,  rather  to  fit  the  occasion."  The  Elder's 
defence  was  artful. 

The  Bishop,  not  pretending  to  take  his  question  seriously, 
pursued : 

"  I  note,  further,  that  he  accuses  you  of  disposing  of 
some  property.  .  .  ." 

"  My  daughter  sold  her  place.  It  was  hers,  in  her  name, 
and  the  transaction  did  not  require  his  consent." 

"  M-m  —  I  see.  It  seems  that  the  property,  so  he  claims, 
represented  an  outlay  of  some  thirty-five  hundred  dollars 
in  cash,  and  he  purports  the  same  as  being  worth  something 
like  sixty-four  hundred  dollars.  What  is  your  opinion,  hav- 
ing been  on  the  property,  of  its  actual  worth  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  some  sense  of  values,  since  I  am  buying 
this  home,  and  I  do  not  regard  the  property  as  being  worth 
such  a  sum." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  other,  stroking  his  beard  which  was  thick 
and  flowing. 

"  A  piece  of  wild,  raw  land  such  as  that  I  could  not  esti- 
mate it  as  being  so  valuable." 


THE  BISHOPS  INQUISITION  475 

"  M-m.  Have  you  any  knowledge  of  what  land  has 
brought  in  that  neighborhood,  Reverend.  You  see,  value  is 
a  very  delicate  thing  to  estimate.  We  cannot  always  be  the 
judge  in  such  matters.  The  usual  estimate  of  what  any- 
thing is  worth  is  what  some  one  is  willing  to  pay.  Do  you 
recall  of  having  ever  heard  your  daughter  or  any  one  say 
what  deeded  land  in  that  section  sold  for?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  heard  my  daughter  say  that  a  place  near 
there  had  brought  five  thousand  dollars." 

"  Which  would  not  compare  with  the  value  you  put  on  the 
place  your  daughter  held." 

"  It  would  not  seem  to." 

"  M-m.  You  say  this  was  your  daughter's  place  en- 
tirely?" 

"  It  was,"  returned  the  Reverend  promptly. 

"  And  she  paid  for  it  out  of  her  own  money?  " 

"  Well,  no.     She  did  not." 

"  I  see.  M-m.  Then  who  purchased  it  for  her,  Rever- 
end?" 

"  I  think  he  did  that.     Yes,  I  think  he  did." 

"  I  see.  Do  you  recall  the  consideration.  I  understand 
that  he  purchased  what  is  called  a  relinquishment.  I  under- 
stand such  transactions  slightly.  I  have  read  of  such  deals 
in  Oklahoma.  Seems  to  be  a  sort  of  recognized  custom  in 
securing  land  in  new  countries,  notwithstanding  the  subtlety 
of  the  transaction." 

"  I  think  he  claimed  to  have  paid  two  thousand  dollars 
for  the  relinquishment,  which  I  would  consider  too  much, 
considerably  too  much." 

"  But,  inasmuch  as  your  knowledge  of  new  countries  has 
been  brief,  perhaps,  you  would  not  set  your  judgment  up  as 
a  standard  for  values  there,"  suggested  the  Bishop,  point- 
edly. "  You  will  grant  that  the  individual  in  the  contro- 


476  THE  HOMESTEADER 

versy  would  likely  be  able  to  judge  more  correctly  with 
regard  to  values  ?  " 

"  It  is  obvious." 

"  Yes,  yes.  Quite  likely."  The  Reverend  was  very  un- 
comfortable. If  the  Bishop  would  only  stop  where  he  was  it 
wouldn't  be  so  bad,  but  if  he  kept  on  with  such  questions. 
That  was  what  he  had  disliked  about  Jean  Baptiste.  .  .  . 
He  had  a  habit  of  asking  questions  —  too  many  questions, 
he  had  thought;  but  this  man  before  him  was  the  Bishop, 
a  law  unto  himself.  And  he  must  answer.  The  Bishop 
knew  a  great  deal  more  about  the  West  than  he  had  thought 
he  did,  however. 

"  Who  bought  your  daughter's  place,  my  dear  Elder  ?  A 
white  man  or  a  Negro?  Which  of  course,  doesn't  matter, 
but  if  I  understand  all  the  details,  it  would  be  more  clear, 
you  understand." 

"Of  course,  my  dear  Bishop.  Naturally.  A  white  man 
bought  the  place." 

"  I  understand  now.  A  white  man,"  he  repeated  thought- 
fully. During  all  the  questioning,  the  Bishop  had  looked 
into  the  Reverend's  eyes  only  occasionally.  Most  of  the 
time  he  had  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  carpet  before  him,  as  if 
he  were  studying  a  spot  thereon. 

"  It  seems  by  the  paper  that  the  man,  according  to  the 
accusations  set  forth  in  the  complaint,  had  once  contested 
the  claim." 

"  Yes,  he  had  done  so,  Doctor,  he  had." 

"  I  see.  Why  did  he  contest  the  place,  my  dear  Rever- 
end?" 

"  Why,  I  do  not  understand  clearly,  but  such  methods 
appear  to  be  a  recognized  custom  in  those  parts,"  countered 
the  Elder  evasively. 

"  But  isn't  it  a  fact  that  he  tried  to  contest  her  out  of 


THE  BISHOP'S  INQUISITION  477 

the  place,  and  if  he  had  been  successful,  he  would  have 
had  the  place  for  nothing  in  so  far  as  she  was  concerned  ?  " 

"  It  is  quite  likely."  The  Elder  had  nothing  but  evasive 
answers  now.  He  tried  counters  no  more. 

"  But  he  failed,  it  seems,  to  get  the  place  through  contest, 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  your  daughter  was  here  in 
Chicago  instead  of  being  on  her  claim." 

"  It  seems  that  way." 

"  And  then,  forsooth,  it  must  have  been  your  daughter's 
husband  who  was  instrumental  in  saving  the  place  for  her  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  after  this,  your  daughter  sold  the  place  to  the  man 
who  had  struggled  to  beat  her  out  of  it  and  failed  through 
the  instrumentalities  of  her  husband,  and  without  consult- 
ing her  husband  with  regard  to  the  bargain." 

"  I  counciled  her,  my  dear  Bishop." 

"  Ah,  you  counciled  her,"  and  for  the  first  time  he  turned 
his  sharp,  searching  eyes  on  the  Elder  and  seemingly  looked 
directly  through  him.  The  next  moment  they  were  back  on 
the  carpet  before  him,  and  he  resumed  his  questions.  He 
was  thinking  then,  thinking  of  what  he  had  read  in  the 
book  by  Jean  Baptiste,  and  what  had  recently  appeared  in 
all  the  papers.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  Elder's  defence 
was  not  quite  clear ;  but  he  would  see  it  through. 

"  It  was  reported  that  this  man,  a  banker,  whose  bank 
had  failed  .  .  .  sent  you  the  money  for  your  railroad  fare 
from  Cairo  to  this  city,  and  also  reimbursed  for  the  return. 
Is  that  quite  true?" 

"  That  was  —  the  railroad  fare  —  a  part  of  the  transac- 
tion." 

"  Ah-ha.  A  part  of  the  transaction.  You  never,  I  sup- 
pose, informed  her  husband  regarding  the  transaction  after 
the  deal  was  closed  ?  " 


4;8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  No." 

"  What  was  the  consideration,  Reverend,  for  this  piece 
of  land  that  your  daughter's  husband  bought,  for  which  he 
paid  $2000,  placing  a  house  and  barn  thereon,  digging  a 
well,  and  making  other  improvements,  fighting  off  a  three 
years'  contest  —  placed  there  by  the  man  who  tried  to  beat 
her  out  of  it?  What  did  he  pay  for  the  place?  " 

"  Three  hundred  dollars/'  Such  an  awful  moment !  The 
Elder's  head  dropped  as  he  said  this.  But  the  Bishop's  eyes 
were  still  upon  the  spot  in  the  carpet. 

"  And  so  this  young  man  comes  hither  and  accuses  and 
sues  you,  accusing  you  of  breaking  up  he  and  his  wife. 
He  published  all  that  you  have  told  me  and  if  he  should 
secure  a  judgment  it  is  known  that  he  can  remand  you  to 
jail  for  six  months." 

He  paused  again,  regarded  the  spot  in  the  carpet  before 
him  very  keenly  and  then  arose.  The  Elder  arose  also,  but 
he  was  unable  to  find  his  voice.  In  the  meantime  the 
Bishop  was  moving  toward  the  door,  his  hand  was  upon  the 
knob,  and  when  the  door  was  open,  he  turned,  and  looking 
at  the  one  behind  him,  said : 

"  Well,  see  you  at  the  conference,  Newt,"  and  was  gone. 

The  other  stood  regarding  the  closed  door.  His  brain 
was  in  a  whirl  and  he  could  not  quite  understand  what 
had  happened.  But  something  in  that  hour  had  trans- 
pired, and  while  he  could  not  seem  to  realize  what  it  was 
just  then,  he  knew  he  would  learn  it  in  due  time. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   BISHOP   ACTS 

THE  conference  that  followed  was  one  of  grave  ap- 
prehensions for  the  Reverend  McCarthy.     Before, 
he  had  always  looked  forward  to  this  occasion  with 
considerable  anxiety.     He  had  usually  prepared  himself  for 
the  battle  that  was  a  rule  on  such  occasions.     For  thirty-five 
years  he  had  not  missed  a  conference ;  he  had  never  come 
away  in  defeat.     True,  he  had  not  risen  very  high,  but  he 
had,  at  least,  always  been  able  to  hold  his  own. 

But,  for  the  first  time  in  his  long  experience,  he  went  to 
meet  this  conference  with  a  feeling  in  his  heart  that  he 
would  come  away  defeated.  That  he  was  not  to  be  re- 
appointed  Presiding  Elder,  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  but 
he  entertained  doubts  about  getting  the  appointment  he  had 
hoped  to  secure.  Ever  since  the  Bishop  had  paid  him  the 
visit,  he  had  been  uncomfortable.  When  the  prelate  bade 
him  good-by  that  day,  he  had  never  been  able  to  get  out  of 
his  mind  the  idea  that  the  other  had  convicted  him  in  his 
own  heart,  and  had  purposely  avoided  his  company.  It 
worried  him,  and  he  had  been  losing  flesh  for  two  years, 
therefore  he  did  not  present  now  the  same  robust,  striking 
figure  as  when  he  had  met  the  conference  heretofore  year 
after  year. 

And  then,  moreover,  he  had  been  hounded  almost  to 
insanity  by  gossips.  From  over  all  his  circuit  it  was  the 
talk,  they  brought  it  to  conference  and  discussed  it  freely 

479 


480  THE  HOMESTEADER 

and  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  get  out  of  his  hearing  to  do 
so.  Nowhere  was  there,  as  he  well  knew,  a  body  that  would 
have  delighted  more  in  his  downfall  than  those  brother 
preachers  who  met  the  conference  that  year.  Always  had 
they  been  ready  to  oppose  him,  but  always  before  the  Bishop 
had  been  with  him.  He  had  been  able  by  subtle  methods  to 
place  himself  in  the  Bishop's  favor,  but  this  time  that  august 
individual  artfully  kept  from  meeting  him  directly.  Besides, 
he  had  not  the  conscience  to  seek  him,  and  he  had  not  been 
able  to  meet  the  Bishop  in  the  free  atmosphere  as  before. 

The  charge  that  he  had  picked  out  was  very  good,  and  it 
was  convenient  for  his  needs  for  many  reasons.  Of  course 
there  were  scores  of  others  after  the  same  charge,  but  with 
his  old  influence  he  need  not  have  worried.  However,  he 
had  not  and  could  not  see  the  Bishop  privately  long  enough 
to  secure  from  him  a  promise.  And  so  he  met  the  con- 
ference for  the  first  time,  unsettled  as  to  where  he  was  to 
preach  the  ensuing  year. 

Never  had  a  conference  seemed  so  long  as  that  session. 
The  week  wore  slowly  away,  and  he  was  forced  to  be  aware 
of  the  fact  that  on  all  sides  they  were  discussing  him,  and  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  sued,  and  was  likely  to  be  remanded 
to  jail  as  a  result,  since  no  one  credited  him  with  so  large  a 
sum  as  ten  thousand  dollars.  He  could  see  the  uncon^ 
cealed  delight,  and  the  malice  that  had  always  been,  but 
which  before  he  had  been  able  to  ignore.  Affairs  reached 
such  a  point  until  it  was  almost  a  conclusion  that  it  mat- 
tered little  as  to  where  he  was  sent,  for  he  would  be  unable 
to  fill  the  pulpit  because  of  the  fact  that  he  would  have  to  go 
to  jail  shortly.  It  nettled  him;  it  broke  down  his  habitual 
composure,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  him  when  the  conference 
came  to  a  close. 

And  not  until  the   secretary   arose   to  call  the  various 


THE  BISHOP  ACTS  481 

charges  and  who  had  been  sent  thither,  did  he  know  where 
he  was  to  go.  So  it  was  with  a  sinking  of  the  heart  when 
his  name  was  reached : 

"  Reverend  McCarthy  to  Mitchfield !  " 

"Reverend  McCarthy  to  Mitchfield!"  was  the  echo  all 
through  the  audience.  Impossible !  Reverend  McCarthy, 
one  of  the  oldest,  and  regarded  as  one  of  the  strongest,  one 
of  the  ablest  ministers  to  such  a  forsaken  charge.  Indeed 
they  could  hardly  have  sent  him  to  a  poorer  charge,  to  a 
less  dignified  place.  It  seemed  incredible,  and  the  rest  of 
the  calls  were  almost  drowned  out  in  the  consternation  that 
followed. 

Well,  it  was  done.  He  had  been  all  but  silenced,  and 
lowered  as  much  as  the  Bishop  dared  to  lower  him.  That 
was  settled,  and  he  returned  to  Chicago  without  telegraphing 
the  fact  to  his  family. 

With  resignation  he  made  the  necessary  preparations  for 
the  trip,  and  taking  Orlean  with  him,  went  to  the  small 
town.  They  rented  a  house,  for  the  place  didn't  afford  a 
parsonage,  arid  began  the  long  dreary  year  that  was  to 
follow.  It  was  his  good  fortune,  however,  when  the  school 
board  met  and  decided  to  separate  the  Negro  children  from 
the  whites  in  the  public  schools,  that  they  employed  his 
daughter  to  teach  the  colored  pupils  for  the  year.  In  this 
way  they  were  able  to  get  along  in  very  good  comfort  in  the 
months  that  followed.  So  the  autumn  passed,  and  also  the 
winter.  Spring  came  and  went,  and  summer  had  set  in 
when  his  attorney  wrote  him  that  the  case  had  been  called, 
to  come  into  Chicago,  and  prepare  to  stand  trial  in  the  case 
of  Jean  Baptiste,  plaintiff,  versus  Newton  Justine  McCarthy, 
defendant. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHERE  THE   WEAK   MUST   BE   STRONG 

THE  TRIAL  was  called  for  early  June,  and  Baptiste 
reached  the  city  a  week  or  ten  days  before  the 
time  set.     He  had  become  very  friendly  with  the 
Negro  lawyer  who  was  conducting  his  case.     He  also  se- 
cured a  Gregory  lawyer,  the  one  who  had  conducted  the 
contest  case.    When  he  arrived  in  the  city,  the  lawyer  ad- 
vised that,  inasmuch  as  they  had  a  spare  bedroom  at  his 
home,  and  that  it  would  be  imperative  for  them  to  be  close 
to  discuss  various  phases  of  the  prosecution,  he  could  have 
the  room  if  he  liked.     So  he  accepted  it. 

It  so  happened  that  the  lawyer's  home  was  located  in  the 
same  block  on  Vernon  Avenue  as  was  the  McCarthys,  and 
on  the  same  side  of  the  street.  Moreover,  it  had  been  built 
at  the  same  time  as  had  that  of  the  McCarthys,  and  was 
very  much  like  in  appearance  the  one  in  which  they  were 
living. 

One  afternoon  a  few  days  before  the  trial,  while  lingering 
at  the  bar  of  the  Keystone  Hotel,  Baptiste  was  approached 
by  Glavis,  who  invited  him  to  a  table  nearby,  where  they 
were  very  much  alone.  He  ordered  the  drinks,  and  when 
they  were  served  he  began : 

"  Now,  Baptiste,  it  seems  we  ought  to  be  able  to  get 
together  on  this  case  without  going  into  court." . 

"Yes?"  replied  Baptiste,  regarding  the  other  noncom- 
mittally. 

"  Yes,  I  think  we  could,  and  should.     I  think  you  and 

482 


WHERE  THE  WEAK  MUST  BE  STRONG      483 

Orlean  ought  to  be  able  to  console  your  differences  without 
such  an  extreme." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  Why,  I  do.  Orlean  has  always  —  ah  —  rather  loved 
you,  Baptiste,  and  I  think  you  two  could  make  up." 

"  But  this  is  not  between  Orlean  and  me,  Glavis.  You 
seem  to  misunderstand.  It  is  between  N.  Justine  McCarthy 
and  me." 

"  Of  course,  but  it  is  over  Orlean.  You  have  sued  father 
for  this  sum,  a  sum  you  know  he  cannot  pay  in  the  event 
you  should  secure  judgment.  So  there  would  be  nothing 
left  for  you  but  to  remand  him  to  jail,  which  seems  to  be 
your  desire." 

"  Possibly  so."     The  other  was  still  noncommittal. 

"  Then  why  not  you  and  I  get  together  on  this  proposition 
before  the  trial  is  called?  " 

"  I  don't  see  as  I  can  oblige  you,  Glavis.  There  comes  a 
time  when  compromise  is  impossible,  only  vindication  can 
suffice.  And  it's  vindication  that  I  want  now  and,  regret 
to  advise,  am  determined  to  have." 

"  That  seems  rather  severe,  Baptiste." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  understand  that  the  old  man  kinda  —  er, 
gave  you  the  worst  of  it,  but  you  ought  to  forget  some 
things.  Look  at  it  from  a  broad  viewpoint.  See  how  ex- 
pensive it  is  going  to  be,  and  all  that." 

"  I  considered  all  that  before  I  went  into  it,  Glavis,"  re- 
plied Baptiste  calmly. 

"  Well,  now,  Baptiste,  I  want  to  stop  this  thing  before  it 
goes  to  court.  If  you  had  of  kinda  flattered  the  old  man 
a  little  in  the  beginning  as  I  did,  all  would  have  been  well." 

"  Why  should  I  have  done  so  when  I  didn't  feel  to  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Baptiste,  you  are  so  severe !  " 


484  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  When  a  man  has  suffered  as  I  have,  it  is  time  to  be  se- 
vere, my  friend.  For  your  own  benefit,  I  will  say  that  I  do 
not  trust  your  father-in-law.  I  do  not  love  him  and  never 
have.  If  it  wasn't  because  I  wish  to  observe  and  subserve  to 
the  law  of  the  land,  I  would  have  killed  him  long  ago.  Even 
when  I  think  of  it  now,  my  bitterness  is  so  great  at  times 
that  I  must  repel  the  inclination  to  strike  him  down  for 
the  coward  he  is.  So  if  that's  all,  we  will  call  the  meeting 
to  an  end,"  so  saying  he  arose,  strode  toward  the  bar  and 
ordered  drinks  for  both.  He  drank  his  with  a  gulp  when 
served,  and  turned  and  left  the  saloon. 

Glavis  proceeded  to  his  lawyer,  and  advised  him  of  his 
inability  to  dissuade  the  plaintiff. 

"  Couldn't  dissuade  him,  eh?  " 

"  Couldn't  do  a  thing !  " 

"  That's  too  bad.  It  might  be  to  your  advantage  if  you 
could  settle  this  case  out  of  court.  When  will  your  father- 
in-law  be  in  ?  " 

"  I'm  looking  for  him  here  in  a  day  or  so,  now." 

"  M-m."  The  attorney  was  thoughtful.  "  This  is  rather 
an  unusual  case,"  he  resumed,  "  and  I  have  been  studying  the 
complaint  of  the  plaintiff.  The  old  man,  it  seems  to  me, 
committed  some  very  grave  blunders." 

"You  think  so?" 

"  Quite  obvious.  And  while  it  will  be  difficult  for  the 
plaintiff  to  secure  a  judgment  in  such  a  case ;  it  is,  however, 
apparent  that  the  sympathy  of  the  court  will  be  against  your 
father-in-law  in  the  proceedings." 

Glavis  was  uncomfortable. 

"  Now  I  take  notice  here  that  the  plaintiff  states  that  his 
wife  drew  a  check  for  two  hundred  dollars  unknown  to  her 
husband,  and  that  the  Reverend  had  it  cashed.  That  may 
be  regular,  but  it  will  not  help  her  father's  case.  Again, 


WHERE  THE  WEAK  MUST  BE  STRONG      485 

he  complains  that  her  father  influenced  the  girl  to  sell  a 
quarter  section  of  land  for  less  than  one-tenth  what  it  cost 
the  plaintiff.  Of  course  these  are  technicalities  that  while 
they  cannot  justify  a  judgment  will  win  the  sympathy  of 
the  jury.  What  the  plaintiff  must  show,  however,  is  that 
his  father-in-law  actually  was  the  direct  cause  of  and  did 
alienate  the  affections  of  his  wife.  Such  a  case  is  not  with- 
out parallel,  but  it  is  uncommon.  A  father  alienating  the 
affections  of  his  daughter. 

"  Now  where  is  your  sister-in-law  ?  " 

"  At  home/' 

"  Wish  you'd  bring  her  down.  This  is  a  complicated 
case,  and  we've  got  to  conduct  it  with  directness.  She  can 
be  of  great  assistance  in  extricating  her  father  from  this 
predicament." 

"  All  right,  sir.     When  shall  I  bring  her?  " 

"  Oh,  any  time  that  is  convenient.  Tomorrow  morning  at 
nine  will  perhaps  be  the  best.  And,  now,  say!  Have  you 
any  idea  who  the  plaintiff  is  going  to  use  as  witnesses?  " 

"  Why,  I  think  he  plans  to  bring  his  grandmother  from 
what  I  can  hear,  for  one." 

"  His  grandmother  ?    What  does  she  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  was  in  the  house  when  my  father-in-law  went 
on  the  visit  and  the  girl  came  away  with  him." 

"  I  see.  I'd  like  to  know  just  what  passed  and  what  she 
heard  and  will  testify  to.  I  wonder  whether  she  will  testify 
that  she  overheard  your  father-in-law  abusing  this  Baptiste 
to  his  wife  ?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know." 

"Who  else?" 

"  I  heard  something  about  him  going  to  bring  a  doctor 
down,  and  also  a  lawyer." 

"The  doctor,  eh?"     He   shook  his  head  then  a  little 


486  THE  HOMESTEADER 

dubiously.     "  This  physician  attended  the  girl  while  she  was 
confined  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  M-m.  I  see  here  where  we  have  recorded  that  your 
father-in-law  claims  that  the  girl  was  neglected ;  didn't  have 
proper  medical  attention.  What  about  this?  Have  you 
any  knowledge  as  to  how  many  visits  this  doctor  made  to 
the  bedside  of  this  girl  when  she  was  sick  ?  Any  knowledge 
of  what  kind  of  bill  was  rendered  by  him  ?  " 

"  I  hear  that  his  bill  amounted  to  something  like  two 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Two  hundred !  Great  Scott !  And  for  a  dead  baby ! 
Gee !  We'll  have  to  keep  away  from  neglect  as  an  excuse. 
That's  a  fact.  No  jury  will  believe  such  a  statement  if  that 
fellow  shows  where  he's  paid  such  a  bill  as  that ! " 

Glavis  shifted  uneasily.  He  was  seeing  another  side  of 
the  controversy.  Before  he  had  only  seen  one  side  of  it, 
and  that  side  was  as  the  Reverend  had  had  him  see  it. 

"  You  send  or  bring  the  girl  down  here  tomorrow.  It 
will  be  up  to  her  to  keep  her  father  out  of  jail,  that's  all. 
It  will  be  up  to  her  to  convince  the  court  that  she  never 
loved  this  man,  that  all  he  did  for  her  was  by  persuasion, 
and  that  her  father  only  followed  her  instructions.  In 
short,  it's  almost  directly  up  to  her;  for  the  plaintiff  has 
certainly  got  the  goods  on  her  dad  if  he  can  prove  that  she 
ever  loved  him." 

Glavis  was  much  disturbed  when  he  went  home.  For  the 
first  time  he  was  able  to  appreciate  the  full  circumstances. 
It  would  be  up  to  Orlean  to  save  her  father,  and  that  he 
could  see.  He  would  take  her  to  the  lawyer,  and  have  her 
carefully  drilled.  The  success  for  them  depended  on  her; 
on  her  falsifying  to  the  court,  for  it  could  not  be  otherwise. 
For  her  to  testify  that  she  did  not  love  —  and  had  never 


WHERE  THE  WEAK  MUST  BE  STRONG      487 

loved  Jean  Baptiste,  he  knew  would  be  a  deliberate  false- 
hood. It  worried  him,  but  he  had  to  go  through  with  it. 

He  accompanied  her  to  the  lawyer's  office  as  agreed,  and 
there  she  was  made  to  understand  the  gravity  of  the  situa- 
tion, that  everything  depended  on  her  statements,  and  her 
statements  only. 

Her  father  arrived  the  following  day,  and  at  the  attor- 
ney's office  in  company  with  Orlean  and  Glavis,  he  was 
impressed  with  the  nature  of  the  defense.  All  were  finally 
drilled  in  their  course  of  action. 

That  night  Orlean  faced  the  most  serious  period  in  her 
life.  She  was  a  weak  woman  and  her  weakness  had  been 
the  cause  of  it  all.  The  trial  was  approaching  —  and  the 
result  was  up  to  her.  Her  father's  freedom,  his  continu- 
ance in  the  pulpit,  his  vindication  of  the  action  he  had  taken 
depended  upon  her,  and  her  strength. 

And  that  strength  —  for  on  that  day  she  would  have  to  be 
strong, —  depended  upon  a  lie. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  TRIAL  —  THE   LIE — "AS   GUILTY  AS   HELL!" 

'OT  guilty,  your  honor!" 

The  court  room  was  silent  for  a  time  before 
any  one  stirred.  It  had  been  apparent  that  the 
decision  would  be  so;  because  there  were  several  reasons 
why  the  jury  was  constrained  to  render  such  a  verdict. 

Among  the  reasons,  chiefly,  was  the  fact  that  the  plaintiff 
had  failed  to  produce  sufficient  evidence  to  justify  a  verdict 
in  his  favor.  His  grandmother,  his  corroborating  witness, 
had  answered  her  last  call  just  before  she  was  to  start  for 
Chicago  to  give  hers,  the  most  incriminating  testimony. 
The  doctor  who  had  attended  his  wife  during  her  confine- 
ment was  indisposed,  and  was  represented  only  by  an  affi- 
davit. But  what  had  gone  harder  than  anything  against 
the  plaintiff  was  his  wife's  testimony.  Under  the  most 
severe  examination,  and  cross  examinations,  she  had  stood 
on  her  statements.  She  had  never  loved  her  husband,  and 
had  not  been,  therefore,  actuated  by  her  father's  influence 
into  leaving  him.  She  had  instructed  her  father  in  all  he 
had  done,  and  that  he  was  in  no  wise  guilty  as  accused. 

No  jury  could  have  rendered  a  verdict  to  the  contrary 
under  such  circumstances,  and  no  one  —  not  even  the  plain- 
tiff, had  expected  or  even  hoped  that  they  would. 

But  in  the  minds  of  every  man  and  woman  in  the  crowded 
court  room,  N.  J.  McCarthy  stood  a  guilty  man.  Not  even 
the  faintest  semblance  of  doubt  as  to  this  lingered  in  their 

488 


THE  TRIAL  — THE  LIE  489 

minds.  It  was  merely  a  case  of  insufficient  evidence  to  con- 
vict. And  while  the  people  filed  out  into  the  air  at  the  con- 
clusion, every  one  had  a  vision  of  that  arch  hypocrite  in  his 
evil  perpetuation.  In  their  ears  would  always  ring  the  story 
Jean  Baptiste  had  told.  Told  without  a  tremor,  he  had  re- 
cited the  evils  from  the  day  he  had  married  her  up  until 
the  day  she  had  sold  her  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage. 
So  vivid  did  he  make  it  all  that  the  court  was  held  in  a 
thraldom.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  he  detailed  the  evil  of 
his  enemy,  his  sinister  purpose  and  action,  his  lordly  deceit, 
and  his  artful  cunningness,  and  brought  women  to  tears  by 
the  sorrow  in  his  face,  his  apparent  grief  and  external  mor- 
tification. 

Never  had  the  black  population  of  the  city  listened  to  or 
witnessed  a  more  eloquent  appeal.  But  justice  had  been 
unable  to  interfere.  The  trial  was  over,  and  Newton  Jus- 
tine McCarthy  left  the  court  room  a  free  man,  with  head 
held  high,  and  walking  with  sure  step. 

Jean  Baptiste  left  it  calmly  in  company  with  his  lawyers. 
They  had  anticipated  losing  the  case  before  going  into  court, 
for  it  had  been  apparent  to  them  that  the  outcome  rested 
entirely  with  Baptiste's  wife.  If  they  failed  to  shake  her 
testimony;  that  she  had  never  loved  him,  then  they  knew 
it  was  hopeless.  It  had  all  depended  on  her  —  and  she  had 
stood  by  her  father. 

"  Well,  I'm  satisfied,"  said  Baptiste  as  they  went  through 
the  street. 

"  I  suppose  so,  in  a  way." 

"  I  wanted  vindication.  I  wanted  the  people  to  know  the 
truth." 

"  And  they  know  it  now.  He  goes  free,  but  the  people 
know  he  is  a  guilty  man,  and  that  your  wife  lied  to  save 
him." 


490  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Yes,"  said  Baptiste  a  little  wearily. 

Somehow  he  felt  relieved.  It  seemed  that  a  great  burden 
had  been  lifted  from  his  mind,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  as  if 
shutting  out  the  past  now  forever.  He  was  free.  Never 
would  the  instance  that  had  brought  turmoil  and  strife  into 
his  life  trouble  him  again.  Always  before  there  had  seemed 
to  be  a  peculiar  bond  between  him  and  the  woman  he  had 
taken  as  wife.  Always  he  seemed  to  have  a  claim  upon 
her  in  spite  of  all  and  she  upon  him.  But,  by  the  decision 
of  the  court,  all  this  had  been  swept  away,  and  he  sighed 
as  if  in  peace. 

They  found  their  way  to  the  "  L  "  station  that  was  near- 
est, and  there  took  a  train  for  the  south  side.  At  Thirty- 
first  Street  Baptiste  left  his  lawyer  and  slowly  betook  him- 
self toward  the  familiar  scenes  on  State  Street. 

While  he  lost  himself  in  the  traffic  of  State  Street,  the 
Reverend,  in  company  with  Glavis,  Ethel,  and  Orlean, 
boarded  an  Indiana  Avenue  surface  car.  The  Reverend 
was  cheery  for  a  great  fear  had  passed.  A  coward  by 
nature,  he  had  been  on  the  verge  of  a  nervous  breakdown 
before  the  trial,  thinking  of  what  might  happen.  But  now 
that  was  over.  He  was  free.  That  meant  everything. 
The  fact  that  he  was  guilty  in  the  minds  of  everybody  who 
heard  the  trial,  did  not  worry  him  now.  He  was  free  and 
could  claim  by  the  verdict  that  he  was  vindicated  in  the 
action  he  had  taken.  That  was  the  great  question.  Always 
before  he  had  been  sensitive  of  the  fingers  of  accusation 
that  were  upon  him,  and  the  worry  had  greatly  impaired 
his  usual  appearance. 

And  while  he  was  relieved,  Glavis,  sitting  proudly  by  him, 
was  also.  He  talked  cheerfully  of  the  trial,  of  the  decision, 
and  of  the  future  that  was  before  them.  He  smiled  at  all 
times,  and  the  Reverend's  large  face  was  also  lighted  up 


THE  TRIAL  — THE  LIE  491 

with  a  peculiar  delight.  But'  there  was  another  who,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  the  testimony  from  her  lips  had  saved 
the  day  for  the  Reverend,  was  not  happy,  not  cheerful,  not 
in  a  mood  to  discuss  the  case. 

This  one  was  Orlean.  Few  knew  —  in  fact  maybe  only 
one  other,  and  that  was  her  husband  —  or  appreciated  how 
much  that  false  testimony  had  cost  her.  She  had  lied ;  lied 
freely;  lied  stoutly;  lied  at  every  point  of  the  case  —  and 
this  for  the  man  who  had  brought  her  to  it.  And  now  when 
it  was  over  she  felt  not  at  ease.  While  Jean  Baptiste  was 
conscious  that  a  burden  had  been  lifted  from  his  mind,  and 
Glavis  and  her  father  chatted  freely,  she  sat  silently  by 
without  even  a  clear  thought.  She  was  only  conscious  that 
she  had  lied,  that  after  a  life  of  weakness,  a  life  that  had 
made  no  one  happy  or  cheerful  or  gay,  she  had  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  deliberately  lied.  And  as  she  became  more 
conscious  of  what  had  passed,  she  felt  a  burden  upon  her. 
Never  since  the  day  she  had  abused  her  husband;  never 
since  the  suffering  her  actions  had  brought  him ;  never  since 
as  a  climax  to  all  this,  when  he  lay  upon  the  floor  and  she 
had  kicked  him  viciously  in  the  face,  had  she  experienced  a 
happy  or  a  cheerful  day. 

But  today  —  after  that  terrible  ordeal,  she  felt  as  if  life 
held  little  for  her,  that  she  was  now  unfit  to  perform  any 
womanly  duty.  She  found  no  consolation  in  the  fact  that 
she  had  been  encouraged  to  do  as  she  had  done  by  those 
who  claimed  to  love  her.  That  seemed  to  annoy  her  if 
anything.  She  could  now,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
realize  clearly  what  duty  meant.  Duty  could  not  be  side- 
tracked, regardless  of  what  might  have  passed.  Her  hus- 
band had  been  good  to  her.  He  had  given  her  the  love  that 
was  his.  Never  had  he  abused  her  in  any  way,  never  had 
he  used  a  cross  word  in  her  presence.  But  she  had  done 


492 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


everything  to  him.    And  as  a  climax  to  it  all,  she  had  lied. 

Oh,  that  lie  would  haunt  her  forever ! 

They  arrived  at  the  street  where  they  must  leave  the  car 
for  home.  She  arose  along  with  the  rest.  When  they 
stood  upon  the  walkway  and  had  started  toward  home,  her 
father  paused. 

"  By  the  way,  children,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "  I  think  I 
should  call  at  the  lawyer's  office  and  thank  him."  He 
turned  his  eyes  to  Glavis,  his  worthy  counsellor  at  all  times, 
and  read  agreement  in  his  face  before  the  other  opened  his 
lips  to  give  sanction. 

"  I  think  that  you  should,  too,  father,"  he  said,  where- 
upon he  turned  to  accompany  him. 

"  Well,  I'll  drop  by  his  office.  You  may  go  on  home  with 
the  girls,  Glavis,"  he  said.  So  saying  he  turned  toward  the 
attorney's  office  to  settle  his  account  and  talk  over  the  case. 

As  he  walked  along  his  way,  he  became  reflective.  He 
allowed  his  mind  to  wander  back  into  the  past  —  back  many 
years  to  the  time  when  he  had  gone  into  the  country  to 
take  a  meal.  He  recalled  that  day  at  the  dinner  table  where 
he  had  sat  near  a  certain  school  teacher.  She  had  been  an 
attractive  teacher,  a  rare  woman  in  those  days.  And  he 
admired  her.  It  was  a  privilege  to  sit  so  close  to  her  at  the 
table,  to  wait  on  her,  and  be  the  recipient  of  her  charming 
smiles.  He  saw  himself  now  more  clearly  in  retrospection. 
He  saw  a  little  boy  standing  hungrily  at  a  distance.  He  saw 
again  now,  that  same  small  boy  approach  the  teacher;  saw 
the  teacher's  motherly  face  and  her  arms  reached  out  and 
caught  that  youth  and  then  smother  his  face  with  kisses. 
He  felt  again  the  anger  that  little  boy's  action  had  aroused 
in  him.  He  heard  again  the  cries  from  the  summer  kitchen 
as  the  mother  administered  punishment  for  the  same.  He 
recalled  briefly  the  years  that  followed.  He  recounted  the 


THE  TRIAL  — THE  LIE  493 

testimony  at  the  trial.  For  many,  many  months  he  had 
endeavored  to  make  Baptiste  suffer,  and  this  day  he  had 
succeeded.  But  still  he  was  not  satisfied.  The  joy  that 
had  come  of  being  freed  of  the  accusation  after  his  unhappy 
and  nervous  state  of  fear,  had  shut  all  else  out  of  his  mind 
for  a  time.  After  all  freedom  is  so  much.  But  was  free- 
dom all?  He  could  not  account  for  the  feeling  that  was 
suddenly  come  over  him.  He  recalled  then  again  the  severe 
chastisement  he  had  caused  Jean  Baptiste  to  receive  when 
he  was  a  mere  child.  He  recalled  also  how  he  had  been 
instrumental  in  separating  him  from  his  daughter.  He  re- 
called now  the  lies,  oh,  the  lies  she  had  resorted  to  that 
had  kept  him  out  of  jail,  the  tears  he  had  shed  from  self 
pity,  while  Baptiste  stood  stoically  by. 

And  thinking  thusly,  he  reached  his  destination. 

He  found  the  attorney  alone,  busy  over  some  papers.  He 
approached  him  courteously,  bowed,  and  thrusting  his  hand 
in  his  pocket,  said: 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  thought  I  would  drop  in  and  pay  you  the 
balance  of  the  fee  that  is  now  due,  and  thank  you  for  your 
services."  He  smiled  pleasantly  as  he  spoke,  and  never 
appeared  more  impressive.  The  other  regarded  him  a  mo- 
ment, held  out  his  hand,  accepted  his  fee,  and  said: 

"  Well,  it's  over,  and  you  are  free." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Elder,  but  now  found  it  rather  hard  to 
smile.  "  I  am  glad  it  is  over  for  it  was  a  very  awkward 
affair,  I  must  confess."  He  paused  then,  perforce.  The 
lawyer  was  regarding  him,  and  the  Elder  wondered  at  his 
expression.  He  had  never  seen  that  look  in  his  face  before. 
What  did  it  mean?  He  was  not  kept  long  in  suspense,  for 
soon  the  other  spoke. 

"  Yes,  you  are  free  and  fortunate." 

"  Fortunate,"  the  Reverend  repeated,  thoughtfully,  and 


494  THE  HOMESTEADER 

looking  up  found  the  lawyer's  eyes  upon  him.  They  were 
looking  straight  into  his  with  the  same  expression  of  a 
moment  before. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lawyer  then  coldly,  "  you  are  free  and 
fortunate,  because  you  were  as  guilty  as  hell!  " 


CHAPTER  XV 

GRIM    JUSTICE 

AGNES  decided  to  visit  Chicago  and  planned  to  be 
married  there.     Besides,  since  she  was  now  engaged, 
the  legacy  in  the  bank  at  Rensselaer  must  be  secured, 
and,  according  to  her  mother's  will,  consulted  before  she  was 
married.     She  was  curious  to  know  what  it  was  all  about. 
Indeed,  she  was  almost  as  anxious,  if  not  more  so  to  learn 
the  contents  of  the  legacy  than  she  was  to  become  the  wife 
of  the  man  she  had  consented  to  marry. 

Accordingly,  before  the  train  reached  Chicago,  she  be- 
came very  anxious.  It  gave  her  a  peculiar  and  new  thrill 
to  recline  in  the  luxurious  Pullman,  to  have  her  needs  an- 
swered and  attended  to  by  servants,  and  to  be  pointed  out 
by  curious  people  as  the  writer  and  composer  of  a  song  that 
had  delighted  the  whole  country.  She  was  experiencing 
how  very  convenient  life  is  when  one  has  sufficient  means 
to  satisfy  one's  needs.  This  had  been  her  privilege  only  a 
short  time.  A  newsboy  boarded  the  train  and  passed 
hurriedly  through  the  cars  with  the  morning  papers.  She 
purchased  one,  and  glanced  through  the  headlines.  In  the 
index  she  saw  an  account  of  the  suit  of  Jean  Baptiste,  versus 
his  father-in-law.  Curiously  and  anxiously  she  turned  to 
the  account  and  read  the  proceedings  of  the  trial.  She  laid 
the  paper  aside  when  through  and  reviewed  her  acquaintance 
with  him  in  retrospection.  How  strange  it  all  seemed  at 
this  late  date.  Beside  her,  a  long,  narrow  mirror  fit  between 

495 


496  THE  HOMESTEADER 

the  double  windows.  In  this  she  studied  her  face  a  mo- 
ment. Some  years  had  passed  since  that  day  —  and  the 
other  day,  too,  at  the  sod  house.  She  thought  of  the  man 
that  was  to  be  her  mate  and  of  what  he  would  think  should 
he  ever  know  that  the  only  man  who  had  ever  touched  her 
lips  before  him,  was  a  Negro.  She  found  herself  com- 
paring the  two  men,  and  she  was  rather  surprised  at  the 
difference  she  could  distinguish.  She  tried  to  estimate  what 
true  love  was.  The  life  she  had  so  recently  entered  was 
the  life  she  had  aspired  to.  She  had  hopes  for  it.  The 
life  that  could  now  be  hers  was  the  goal  of  her  ambition  — 
and  she  had  attained  it !  She  should  be  satisfied.  But  was 
she? 

As  the  train  with  its  luxurious  appointments  sped  along, 
she  felt  after  all  that  she  was  going  out  of  the  life  that  she 
really  loved.  Was  it  because  she  had  always  been  so  poor 
and  unable  to  have  the  things  she  could  now  partake  of  at 
will,  that  such  had  become  a  habit,  and  indispensable  to 
her  happiness?  For  indeed  she  had  a  longing  for  the  old 
life,  the  dash  and  open  it  afforded.  She  had  a  vision  of 
Jean  Baptiste  and  his  honor.  He  had  sacrificed  her  to  be 
loyal  to  the  race  in  which  he  belonged.  Had  it  not  been  for 
this,  she  knew  she  would  not  be  journeying  to  the  great  city 
to  become  the  wife  of  another.  But  amid  all  these  thoughts 
and  introspectives  and  otherwise,  there  constantly  recurred 
to  her  mind  the  man  she  was  to  marry  and  what  he  would 
think  if  he  knew  that  she  had  once  loved  and  would  have 
married  —  and  even  kissed  a  Negro. 

She  was  glad  when  at  last  the  train  drew  into  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city,  and  the  excitement  about  drove  such  rem- 
iniscences out  of  her  mind.  She  had  wired  him,  and  of 
course,  she  expected  him  to  meet  her. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,"  he  cried  as  she  stood  upon  the  plat- 


GRIM  JUSTICE  497 

form  a  half  hour  later.  On  hearing  him  her  eyes  wan- 
dered toward  where  he  stood,  and  regarded  him  keenly  for 
a  moment.  A  really  handsome  man,  immaculately  attired 
in  the  finest  tailored  clothes  and  in  the  fashion  of  the  day. 
He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  she  did  not  resist  the  hot 
kisses  he  planted  upon  her  cheeks.  Still,  she  was  greatly 
confused,  and  feared  that  she  would  create  a  scene  before 
she  had  become  accustomed  to  the  ways  and  dash  of  the 
city. 

He  had  her  arm  —  held  it  close,  as  they  passed  through 
the  station  and  crossed  the  walkway  to  where  an  inclosed 
auto  stood.  Into  this  he  ushered  her,  attended  to  her  lug- 
gage, and  a  moment  later  followed  her  inside.  Through  the 
city  with  all  its  bustle  and  excitement  they  sped. 

"  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  my  aunt's/'  he  said,  when  they 
had  gotten  started. 

"  Oh,"  she  chimed.  At  that  moment  she  could  think  of 
nothing  to  say.  It  was  all  so  confusing  to  her.  She  was 
so  unaccustomed  to  any  kind  of  a  city  that  she  was  actually 
in  a  fear.  She  did  not  realize  because  of  the  distinction  to 
which  she  had  attained,  that  any  awkwardness  on  her  part 
would  be  looked  upon  as  the  eccentricity  of  a  genius.  She 
decided,  however,  to  say  as  little  as  possible,  to  speak  only 
when  spoken  to.  In  that  way  she  would  try  not  to  cause 
him  any  embarrassment  or  mortification. 

"  You  have  certainly  been  a  hard  one  to  pull  off  the  farm, 
dear,"  she  heard  now. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  said  coyly. 

"Do  I  think  so?"  he  laughed.  "Well,  say,  now,  there 
isn't  one  person  in  a  thousand  who,  after  writing  the  hit 
you  have  composed,  wouldn't  have  been  over  all  this  old 
land  by  this  time,  letting  people  see  them." 

"  Oh,  I  could  never  wish  that,"  she  said  quickly. 


498  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  Oh,  come,  now !  Get  into  the  limelight."  He  eyed  her 
artfully,  winked  playfully,  and  continued :  "  You'll  like  it 
when  you  get  the  modesty  out  of  yourself." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

He  regarded  her  quickly  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and 
then  looked  ahead. 

"Ever  heard  of  State  Street?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh,  yes.     Is  this  it?" 

"  This  is  State  Street,"  he  said,  and  she  looked  out  and 
started.  She  didn't  know  just  what  she  had  expected  to  see, 
but  what  met  her  gaze  and  made  her  start  was  the  sight 
of  so  many  Negroes. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear  ? "  he  said,  glancing  at  her 
quickly. 

"Why  — ah  — oh,  nothing." 

"  I  wondered  why  you  started,"  and  he  again  looked 
ahead.  They  were  across  it  now,  and  approaching  Wabash 
Avenue.  He  turned  into  this,  to  where  his  aunt  lived  some 
distance  out  in  the  most  exclusive  part  of  its  residence  sec- 
tion. 

Agnes,  sitting  by  his  side,  despite  the  excitement,  the 
great  buildings  and  fine  streets,  was  thinking  of  the  past, 
and  of  what  she  had  just  seen.  Negroes,  Negroes,  and  that 
would  have  been  her  life  had  she  married  Jean  Baptiste. 
All  such  was  foreign  to  her,  but  she  could  estimate  what  it 
would  have  meant.  She  was  sure  she  could  never  have 
become  accustomed  to  such  an  association,  it  wouldn't  have 
seemed  natural.  And  then  she  thought  of  Jean  Baptiste, 
the  man.  Oh,  of  him,  it  was  always  so  different.  In  her 
mind  he  was  like  no  other  person  in  the  world.  How 
strange,  and  singularly  sweet  had  been  her  acquaintance 
with  him.  Never  had  she  understood  any  one  as  she  under- 
stood him.  She  tried  to  shut  him  out  of  her  life,  for  the 


GRIM  JUSTICE  499 

time  had  come,  and  she  must.  But  could  she?  When  she 
dared  close  her  eyes  she  seemed  to  see  him  more  clearly. 

The  car  had  stopped  now,  and  he  was  lifting  her  out 
before  a  large  house  that  stood  back  from  the  street  some 
distance  in  sumptuous  splendor.  As  they  went  up  the  walk- 
way, the  large  front  doors  parted,  and  a  handsome  elderly 
woman  came  forth.  Upon  her  face  was  written  refinement 
and  culture. 

"  Oh,  aunt,  here  we  are." 

"  I  saw  you  coming  because  I  was  watching,"  said  his 
aunt,  coming  forward,  the  personification  of  dignity.  She 
held  out  her  arms,  and  Agnes  felt  herself  being  embraced  and 
kissed.  Her  head  was  in  a  whirl.  How  could  she  readily 
become  accustomed  to  such  without  displaying  awkward- 
ness. 

Arm  in  arm  they  mounted  the  steps,  were  met  by  the 
butler,  who  took  her  bags,  and  a  moment  later  she  found 
herself  in  a  large,  richly  furnished  room. 

"  Come  now,  dear,"  he  said,  and  led  her  to  a  couch.  She 
heard  his  aunt  going  upstairs  to  prepare  her  room,  and  the 
next  moment  she  felt  him  draw  her  to  him,  and  whatever 
difference  there  was  in  this  convenient  life,  all  men  loved 
alike. 

Jean  Baptiste  lingered  late  at  the  Keystone  bar.  He  was 
alone  in  the  world,  he  felt,  so  company  of  the  kind  about 
seemed  the  best,  and  was,  at  least,  diverting.  It  was  twelve 
o'clock  and  after  when  he  left.  He  still  retained  his  room 
at  the  attorney's  residence,  and  to  this  he  strolled  slowly. 
He  attempted  to  formulate  some  plans  in  his  mind,  and  after 
a  time  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  should  go  back  West  to 
Gregory.  He  had  hired  more  than  seven  hundred  fifty 
acres  put  into  wheat.  He  hadn't  heard  how  it  was,  or 


500  THE  HOMESTEADER 

whether  there  was  any  wheat  there  or  not.  But  he  had 
seen  in  the  papers  that  a  drought  had  affected  much  of  the 
crop  in  Kansas  and  Nebraska.  He  half  heartedly  assumed 
that  it  would  naturally  hit  his  country  also.  If  so,  there 
was  nothing  left  for  him  to  do  but  leave  that  section.  But 
he  would  depart  from  the  city  on  the  morrow  and  see  what 
there  was  up  there,  and  with  this  settled  in  his  mind,  he 
quickened  his  step,  and  hurried  to  his  room. 

He  turned  into  the  right  number,  as  he  thought,  but  upon 
trying  to  insert  the  key  in  the  lock  he  found  that  he  had 
made  a  mistake.  He  glanced  up  in  confusion  and  almost 
uttered  a  cry.  It  was  not  the  attorney's  home,  but  that  of 
the  Reverend  McCarthy. 

"  Chump ! "  he  said  to  himself  as  he  turned  and  started 
back  down  the  steps.  "  I'll  never  sleep  inside  that  house 
again,"  and  laughed. 

Upon  the  walk  he  heard  steps,  and  when  he  had  reached 
the  street,  looked  up  to  meet  Glavis  and  a  strange  Negro 
just  turning  in.  Glavis  glared  at  him  as  if  to  say,  "  Well, 
what  business  have  you  here,  now  ?  "  But  Baptiste  mumbled 
some  word  of  apology  about  having  turned  in  at  the  wrong 
number,  went  directly  to  his  room,  retired  and  forgot  the 
incident. 

He  had  no  idea  how  long  he  had  been  asleep  or  what 
time  it  was  when  he  was  awakened  suddenly  by  a  drum- 
ming on  his  door,  and  the  attorney's  voice,  saying : 

"  Heh !  Heh !  Baptiste,  wake  up,  wake  up,  you're 
wanted !  " 

He  turned  on  his  side  and  drew  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head to  assure  himself  that  he  was  awake.  Then,  realizing 
that  he  was,  he  jumped  from  the  bed  and  going  forward, 
opened  the  door. 

Two  officers,  the  attorney  in  a  bath  robe,  and  Glavis 


GRIM  JUSTICE  501 

stood  at  the  door.  He  regarded  them  curiously.  "  What 
is  this  ?  "  he  managed  to  say,  as  they  came  into  the  room. 

"  Seems  that  they  want  you,"  said  the  attorney. 

"Me?  "he  chimed. 

"  Yep/'  said  one  of  the  officers.  "  Will  you  go  along 
peacefully  or  shall  we  have  to  put  the  bracelets  on.  You're 
arrested  for  murder." 

"  For  murder !     Me,  for  murder  ?  " 

"  Just  go  with  the  officers,  Baptiste.  If  you'd  been  a 
little  earlier  you  might  have  gotten  away;  but  it  so  hap- 
pened that  I  met  you  coming  out  just  as  I  was  going  in." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  what  you're  talking  about  —  all 
of  you,"  persisted  Baptiste.  "  Who  has  been  murdered, 
and  why  am  I  accused  ?  " 

The  lawyer  had  been  observing  him  keenly,  and  now  he 
interposed. 

"  Why,  your  wife  and  her  father  have  just  been  found 
murdered,  and  Glavis  here  and  another  assert  they  met  you 
coming  out  of  the  house  at  midnight  or  a  little  after." 

The  incident  of  the  night  came  back  to  him  then,  "  Well," 
he  muttered,  and  began  to  get  into  his  clothes.  When  he 
was  fully  dressed  he  turned  to  the  attorney  and  said: 

"  Glavis  is  right  in  part,  White."  He  was  very  calm. 
"  I'll  call  you  up  when  I  need  you."  And  then  he  turned 
to  the  officers  and  said.  "  I'm  ready.  The  cuffs  will  not 
be  necessary." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   FRIEND 

BECAUSE  she  feared  that  rising  as  early  as  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  might  serve  to  embarrass  her 
fiance  and  his  aunt,  Agnes  took  a  magazine  from  her 
bag,  returned  to  bed  and  tried  to  interest  herself  in  a  story 
the  morning  following  her  arrival  in  the  city.     About  seven, 
some  one  knocked  lightly  at  her  door,  and,  upon  opening  it, 
she  found  the  maid  with  the  morning  paper. 

"  Would  you  care  for  it  ?  "  she  asked  courteously. 
"  I  would  be  glad  to  have  it,"  she  said  as  she  took  it, 
returned  to  the  bed,  and  once  again  therein,  turned  to  read 
the  news.     It  was  but  a  moment  before   she   started  up 
quickly  as  she  read: 

STRANGE  MURDER  CASE  ON  VERNON  AVENUE 

NEGRO  MINISTER  AND  His  DAUGHTER  FOUND  MURDERED 
ABOUT  MIDNIGHT 

JEAN  BAPTISTS,  WHO  HAD  LOST  SUIT  AGAINST  PREACHER, 
ARRESTED  AND  HELD  WITHOUT  BAIL  AS  SUSPECT.  WAS 
MET  LEAVING  THE  HOUSE  JUST  BEFORE  DISCOVERY  OF 
THE  MURDER. 

Jean  Baptiste,  Negro  author  and  rancher  is  under  arrest 
at  the  county  jail  this  morning,  accused  of  the  murder  of 
his  wife  and  father-in-law,  the  Reverend  N.  J.  McCarthy, 

at  3 Vernon  Avenue.     The  dead  bodies  of  the  preacher 

and  his  daughter  were  discovered  shortly  after  midnight 

502 


A  FRIEND  503 

last  night  by  his  daughter  Ethel  and  her  husband,  upon 
his  return  from  State  Street  where  he  had  seen  Baptiste 
leave  the  Keystone  saloon  a  few  minutes  after  twelve. 

The  murder  appears  to  be  the  sequence  of  a  long  enmity 
between  the  preacher  and  his  son-in-law,  Baptiste.  Some 
years  ago  Baptiste  had  the  preacher's  daughter  take  a  home- 
stead in  the  West,  on  which  he  had  purchased  a  relinquish- 
ment  for  her.  Some  months  later  they  were  married  and 
went  to  live  on  the  claim  he  had  secured.  It  seems  that 
bad  blood  existed  between  the  preacher  and  Baptiste,  and 
some  time  after  the  marriage  the  preacher  went  on  a  trip 
West  and  when  he  returned  brought  his  daughter  back  with 
him.  It  is  said  that  the  rancher  visited  Chicago  several 
times  following  in  an  effort  to  persuade  her  to  return. 
About  a  year  ago,  the  daughter  sold  a  relinquishment  on 
the  homestead  and  Baptiste  accused  the  preacher  of  having 
influenced  her  to  do  so.  He  also  accused  him  of  other 
things  that  contributed  to  the  separation,  and  finally  sued 
the  minister  in  the  circuit  court  of  Cook  County  for  ten 
thousand  dollars  for  alienating  his  wife's  affections.  The 
case  was  brought  up,  tried,  and,  yesterday,  the  minister  was 
adjudged  not  guilty  by  the  jury.  The  rancher  and  author 
made  a  strong  case  against  the  minister,  and  it  was  the 
consensus  of  opinion  in  the  court  room  that  the  minister 
was  guilty.  But  it  was  his  daughter's  alibi  that  saved 
him :  she  testified  that  she  did  not  and  never  had  loved  her 
husband,  and  because  the  plaintiff  was  unable  to  prove  con- 
clusively that  she  had,  the  jury's  verdict  was  "  not  guilty." 

E.  M.  Glavis,  also  a  son-in-law  of  the  dead  man,  testified 
and  was  corroborated  by  another,  a  minister,  that  just  as  he 
turned  into  his  yard  last  night,  he  met  Jean  Baptiste  coming 
out.  He  moreover  claims,  that  a  few  days  before  the  trial, 
he  tried  to  dissuade  Baptiste  from  going  through  with  the 


504  THE  HOMESTEADER 

case,  and  to  settle  it  out  of  court.  But  that  Baptiste  re- 
fused to  consider  it;  that  he  showed  his  bitterness  toward 
the  now  dead  man,  by  declaring  that  if  he  hadn't  wished  to 
observe  and  subserve  to  the  law,  he  would  have  killed  the 
preacher  long  ago. 

It  is  therefore  the  consensus  of  opinion  that  Baptiste, 
disappointed  by  losing  the  suit,  entered  the  house  and  mur- 
dered his  wife  and  father-in-law  while  they  slept.  The  cir- 
cumstantial evidence  is  strong,  and  it  looks  rather  bad  for 
the  author.  Only  one  phase  of  the  case  seems  to  puzzle  the 
police,  however,  and  that  is  that  the  preacher  and  his  daugh- 
ter were  found  dead  in  the  same  room,  the  room  which  the 
minister  occupied.  Both  had  been  stabbed  with  a  knife  that 
had  long  been  in  that  same  room.  The  minister's  body  lay 
in  bed  as  if  he  had  been  murdered  while  he  was  sleeping, 
while  that  of  the  daughter  lay  near  the  door.  It  is  the 
opinion  also  of  those  who  feel  Baptiste  guilty,  that  he  en- 
tered the  house  and  went  to  the  preacher's  room,  and  there 
killed  him  while  he  lay  sleeping ;  and  that  the  daughter,  who 
was  sleeping  downstairs  near  her  mother,  was  possibly 
aroused  by  the  noise,  went  up  to  the  room,  and  was  mur- 
dered as  the  intruder  was  about  to  leave. 

Baptiste  refused  to  make  any  comment  further  than  that 
he  was  innocent. 

"  Accused  of  murder!  "  Agnes  echoed,  staring  before  her 
in  much  excitement.  "Jean  Baptiste  accused  of  murder!" 
She  read  the  account  again.  She  arose  and  stood  on  the 
floor.  "He  is  innocent,  he  is  innocent!"  she  cried  to  her- 
self. "Jean  Baptiste  zvould  not  commit  murder,  no,  no,  no! 
No,  not  even  if  he  was  justified  in  doing  so."  Suddenly 
she  seized  her  clothes,  and  in  the  next  instant  was  getting 
hurriedly  into  them. 


A  FRIEND  505 

She  completed  her  toilet  quickly,  opened  the  door  and 
slipped  down  the  stairs.  The  maid  was  at  work  in  the  hall, 
and  she  approached  her,  and  said: 

"Will  you  kindly  advise  the  lady  of  the  house  that  I 
have  gone  downtown  on  some  very  urgent  business.  That 
I  shall  return  later  in  the  day?  " 

She  stepped  outside,  crossed  to  State  Street,  inquired  of 
an  officer  the  way  to  the  county  jail,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
boarded  a  car  for  the  north  side. 

She  had  no  plans  as  to  what  she  would  or  could  do,  but 
she  was  going  to  him.  All  that  he  had  been  to  her  in  the 
past  had  arisen  the  instant  she  saw  that  he  was  in  trouble. 
Especially  did  she  recall  his  having  saved  them  from  fore- 
closure and  disgrace  years  before.  She  was  determined. 
She  was  going  to  him,  he  was  innocent,  she  was  positive, 
and  she  would  do  all  in  her  power  to  save  him. 

It  was  rather  awkward,  going  to  a  place  she  had  never 
dreamed  of  going  to,  the  county  jail,  but  she  shook  this 
resolutely  from  her  mind,  and  a  few  minutes  following  her 
arrival,  there  she  stood  before  the  bailiff. 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  a  man  who  was  arrested  in  connection 
with  a  murder  last  night,"  she  explained  to.  the  officer. 
"  And  —  ah,  would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  see  and  consult 
with  him?" 

"  You  refer  to  that  case  on  Vernon  Avenue,  madam?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  would  like  to  see  this  Jean  Baptiste  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  one." 

They  regarded  her  closely,  and  was  finally  asked  to  fol- 
low the  bailiff. 

They  stopped  presently  before  a  cell,  and  when  the  light 
had  been  turned  on,  she  saw  Baptiste  sitting  on  a  cot.  He 
looked  up,  and  upon  recognizing  her,  came  forward. 


5o6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

"Why,  Agnes  —  Miss  Stewart,  you!"  he  cried  in  great 
surprise.  He  regarded  her  as  if  afraid  to  try  to  under- 
stand her  presence  there. 

"  Yes,  Jean,"  she  answered  quickly.  "  It  is  /."  She  hes- 
itated in  her  excitement,  and  as  she  did  so,  he  caught  that 
same  mystery  in  her  eyes.  They  were  blue,  and  again  he 
could  swear  that  they  were  brown.  Despite  his  precarious 
position  and  predicament,  he  could  not  help  regarding  her, 
and  marking  the  changes  that  had  come  in  the  years  since 
he  had  seen  her.  She  seemed  to  have  grown  a  trifle  stouter, 
while  her  hair  appeared  there  in  the  light  more  beautiful. 
Her  face  was  stronger,  while  her  lips  were  as  red  as  ever. 
Withal,  she  had  grown  more  serious  looking.  She  reminded 
him  as  she  stood  there  then,  of  a  serious  young  literary 
woman,  and  he  was  made  hopeful  by  her  visit. 

"  Now,  Jean,  I've  read  all  about  it  in  the  papers.  I  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  city,  and  so  came  right  over.  I  know 
nothing  about  anything  like  this,  and  don't  suppose  you  do 
either.  But,  Jean,"  she  spoke  excitedly,  anxiously,  and 
hurriedly,  "  I  am  willing  to  do  anything  you  ask  me  to,  just 
anything,  Jean."  And  she  regarded  him  tenderly.  He  was 
affected  by  it,  he  choked  confusedly.  It  was  all  so  sudden. 
She  noted  his  confusion,  and  cried  in  a  strained  little  voice, 

"  You  must  just  tell  me,  Jean." 

"  Why,  Agnes  —  I.  Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I 
don't  feel  that  I  ought  to  involve  you  in  such  a  mess  as  this. 
I  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  speak  that  way,  Jean.  No,  no,  no ! 
I'm  here  to  help  you.  You  didn't  kill  him,  you  didn't  kill 
her  —  you  didn't  kill  anybody,  did  you,  Jean?" 

"Of  course  I  didn't  kill  anybody,  Agnes." 

"  Of  course  you  didn't,  Jean !  "  she  cried  with  relief.     "  I 


A  FRIEND  507 

knew  you  were  innocent.     I  said  so,  and  I  got  out  of  bed 
and  came  at  once,  I  did." 

"  How  brave,  how  noble,  how  kind,"  he  murmured  as  if 
to  himself,  but  she  reached  and  placed  her  hand  over  his 
where  it  rested  upon  the  bar. 

"  Shall  I  hire  a  lawyer,  Jean  ?  A  great  lawyer  —  the  best 
in  the  city.  That  would  be  the  first  thing  to  do,  wouldn't 
it,  Jean?" 

He  looked  at  her,  and  could  not  believe  it  was  so,  but 
finally  he  murmured : 

"  I  have  a  lawyer  —  a  friend  of  mine.     You  may  call  on 

him,   Agnes.     His   number   is   3 Vernon   Avenue.     He 

will  tell  me  what  to  do." 

"  And  me,"  she  said  quickly. 

«  Yes  —  you"  he  repeated,  and  lowered  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  now,  Jean,"  and  she  reached  for  his 
hand. 

He  was  almost  overcome,  and  could  not  look  at  her  di- 
rectly. 

"  Be  strong,  Jean.  It  will  come  out  all  right  —  it  must 
come  out  all  right — " 

11  Oh,  Agnes,  this  is  too  much.  Forget  it.  You  should 
not—" 

"  Please  hush,  Jean,"  she  said  imploringly,  and  he  glanced 
up  to  see  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  looked  away  to  hide  them. 
As  she  did  so,  she  cried :  "  Oh,  Jean,  I  know  what  they 
have  been  doing*  to  you  —  how  you  have  been  made  to 
suffer.  And  —  and  —  I  —  could  never  stand  to  see  it  after 
all  — "  she  broke  away  then,  and  rushed  from  him  and  out 
of  the  building.  He  watched  her  and  when  she  was  gone, 
he  went  back  to  the  cot  and  sat  him  down,  and  murmured. 

"Agnes,  oh,  Agnes,—  and  after  all  that  has  passed!" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    MYSTERY 

AFTER  AGNES  had  consulted  with  the  lawyer,  who 
was  glad  to  go  into  the  case,  and  agreed  to  engage  a 
worthy  assistant,  she  returned  to  Baptiste  and  said: 

"  Now,  Jean.  Don't  you  think  that  if  I  secured  a  good 
detective  to  look  into  it  —  this  case,  it  would  be  the  proper 
thing?" 

"  Why  —  yes,  Agnes,"  he  said.  He  could  hardly  accus- 
tom himself  to  her  in  such  a  situation. 

"  I  think  that  would  be  best,"  she  resumed.  "  As  I  was 
coming  downtown  on  the  car  I  observed  the  Pinkerton 
Office  on  5th  Avenue  and  now,  Jean,  if  you  think  that 
would  be  a  practical  .move,  I  will  go  there  at  once  and  have 
them  send  a  man  to  you.  I'll  bring  him." 

"  That  would  be  practical,  Agnes.  Yes,"  he  said  thought- 
fully, "  since  you  insist  — " 

"  No  more,  please,"  and  she  affected  a  little  smile.  "  Just 
let  me  work  until  we  arrive  somewhere,"  and  she  was  gone, 
returning  in  due  time  with  a  man. 

"  I  represent  the  Pinkerton  agency,  Mr.  Baptiste,"  he 
said,  after  greeting  the  prisoner,  "  and  now  if  you  will  state 
just  where  you  were ;  what  time,  as  near  as  you  can  recall, 
that  you  reached  home ;  also  what  time  you  turned  into  this 
place  where  the  murder  was  committed,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
get  down  to  work  on  the  case." 

Since  Baptiste  had  observed  the  time  by  the  clock  in  the 
Keystone  before  leaving  there,  he  was  quite  accurate  in  fix- 

508 


THE  MYSTERY 


509 


ing  the  time  he  reached  his  room.  Since  we  have  followed 
him  to  his  room,  we  know  this  phase  of  the  case. 

"  Well,  I'll  hike  over  there  and  squint  around  a  little. 
Hope  I'll  get  there  before  the  inquest  is  held."  And  so  say- 
ing, he  was  gone. 

"  I  will  go  back  to  where  I  am  staying,  now,  Jean/'  said 
Agnes,  after  the  detective  had  departed,  "  and  you  may  ex- 
pect me  at  any  time.  I  want  to  see  you  out  of  here  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  get  you  out," 
and  she  dashed  away. 

The  detective  went  to  the  McCarthy  home  forthwith. 
The  bodies  had  been  removed  and  were  then  at  the  morgue. 
He  looked  into  the  room  where  the  tragedy  had  been  com- 
mitted, and  then  sought  Glavis. 

"  Who  discovered  the  murder,  Mr.  Glavis  ?  "  he  inquired 
when  they  stood  in  the  death  room. 

"Why  myself  and  another  fellow  returned  home  just 
after  it  had  been  committed." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  had  just  been  committed?  " 

"  Well  —  why,  my  wife  was  in  the  hall-way,  and  when  we 
entered  she  had  just  discovered  the  bodies." 

"  But  that  doesn't  prove  that  they  had  just  been  mur- 
dered." 

"  But  my  wife  says  she  was  awakened  by  her  sister's 
scream." 

"  I  see.  So  it  was  your  wife  who  first  discovered  the 
bodies,  or  that  they  had  just  been  murdered." 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  had  you  been,  and  what  time  did  you  return 
home?" 

"  I  had  been  around  town,  to  the  Keystone  where  Bap- 
tiste  was  until  shortly  after  midnight." 

"  You  saw  this  Baptiste  leave  the  hotel?" 


THE  HOMESTEADER 

"  I  did." 

"  How  long  after  Baptiste  left  was  it,  before  you  fol- 
lowed?" 

"  Perhaps  fifteen  minutes." 

"  Perhaps  fifteen  minutes ;  but  you  are  not  positive  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  am  quite  certain." 

"  When  you  left  the  hotel,  where  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  came  here." 

"  You  came  directly  here.  Didn't  stop  on  the  way  any- 
where?" 

"  I  did  not", 

"  And  when  you  arrived,  what  happened  ?  Did  you  meet 
anybody  on  the  way  ?  " 

"  I  passed  people  of  whom  I  took  no  notice  on  the  way 
here,  of  course.  The  only  person  I  took  notice  of  was  Jean 
Baptiste." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"  Coming  out  of  the  house  upon  my  arrival." 

'''  You  met  him  coming  out  of  the  house  upon  your  ar- 
rival?" 

"  Well,  out  of  the  yard.  I  saw  him  come  down  the  steps 
that  leads  up  to  the  house." 

"  But  you  didn't  see  him  come  out  of  the  house  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  didn't  see  that." 

"  Did  you  exchange  any  words  with  him  when  you  met 
him  ?  Did  you  stop  and  talk  ?  " 

"  No.     But  I  heard  him  mutter  something." 

"  Did  you  understand  the  words  or  any  words  he  mut- 
tered?" 

"  I  thought  he  said  something  about  having  turned  in 
at  the  wrong  place." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  him  having  done  so  —  if  so  ?  " 


THE  MYSTERY  511 

"  Well,  the  house  where  he  stops  is  just  a  few  doors  — 
about  a  half  dozen  —  up  the  street  — " 

"  On  the  same  side  or  the  opposite  ?  " 

"  The  same  side.     And  he  was  stopping  there." 

"  Did  you  have  any  conversation  with  Baptiste  after  the 
trial  in  which  he  sued  your  father-in-law  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  tried  to  have  him  settle  the  case  before  going 
to  court." 

"What  did  he  say  to  it?" 

"  Refused  to  consider  it." 

"  Did  he  give  reasons  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He  said  he  wanted  vindication." 

"Anything  else?" 

"  That  he  would  have  killed  the  Elder  if  it  had  not  been 
that  he  was  an  observer  of  the  law." 

"Where  were  they  murdered?" 

"  She  lay  near  the  door,  while  he  lay  in  bed." 

"Any  evidence  of  a  struggle?" 

"  No,  not  as  I  could  see." 

"  With  what  were  they  murdered?  " 

"  With  a  knife  that  has  been  in  the  room  here  for  two  or 
three  years." 

"  Was  Baptiste  aware  that  such  a  knife  was  in  the  room?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  When,  to  your  knowledge,  was  Baptiste  last  in  the 
house?" 

"  He  has  not  been  in  the  house  for  more  than  three  years." 

"  Then  he  couldn't  have  known  the  knife  was  there." 

"  Well,  unless  he  discovered  it  when  he  entered  the 
room." 

"  Providing  he  entered  the  room.  Was  he  aware  also 
that  the  preacher  occupied  this  particular  room?  Is  it  not 


512  THE  HOMESTEADER 

reasonable  to  suppose  that  -he  would  not  know  where  the 
preacher  slept  if  he  had  not  been  in  the  house  for  three 
years?" 

"  But  he  could  have  looked  around." 

"  Possibly.  But  how  do  you  account  for  the  girl's  body 
being  here  in  the  room  also.  Where  did  she  sleep  ?  " 

"  Downstairs  near  her  mother.  It  is  my  theory  that 
she  was  disturbed  by  the  sound  of  some  one  walking,  went 
upstairs,  and  was  in  time  to  see  the  tragedy  of  her  father, 
and  was  in  tuin  murdered  by  her  husband." 

"  That  is  your  theory.  But  why  was  there  no  evidence  of 
a  struggle  ?  It  hardly  seems  reasonable  that  she  would  have 
allowed  herself  to  be  stabbed  without  some  effort  to  save 
herself." 

"  Well,  that  is  beyond  me.  Jean  Baptiste  acted  suspicious 
in  my  opinion,  and  it  is  certainly  strange  that  he  should 
have  been  in  the  position  he  was  at  such  a  crucial  time." 

"  May  I  consult  with  your  wife  ?  " 

Glavis  looked  around,  uneasily.  "  She  is  very  much  torn 
up  by  the  incident,"  he  suggested. 

"  But  this  is  a  very  grave  matter." 

"  Well,"  and  he  turned  and  entered  the  room  wherein 
Ethel  had  enclosed  herself. 

"  Ethel,  an  officer  has  called  and  wishes  to  consult  with 
you." 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  she  yelled.  "  Send  him  away.  Didn't  I 
tell  you  I  didn't  want  to  see  no  police,"  and  she  fell  to  cry- 
ing. The  detective  had  entered  the  room  in  the  meantime, 
and  when  she  looked  up,  she  saw  him. 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  here  ? "  she  fairly  screamed. 
He  did  not  flinch  under  the  glare  she  turned  upon  him.  In- 
deed, the  day  was  at  last  come  when  she  could  frighten  no 
one.  The  one  she  had  been  able  to  drive  to  any  lengths  with 


THE  MYSTERY 


SI3 


such  a  propaganda,  lay  stiff  at  the  morgue.  The  detective 
regarded  her  searchingly,  and  upon  realizing  he  was  not 
going  to  jump  and  run,  she  ceased  that  unseemly  noise  mak- 
ing and  began  crying,  woefully. 

"  You  discovered  this  tragedy,  madam?"  he  inquired 
calmly,  but  with  a  note  of  firmness  in  his  tone. 

"  Yes,  yes!  —  oh,  my  poor  sister!  My  poor  father  — 
and  that  low  down  man ! " 

"  When  did  you  discover  this,  madam  ?  " 

"  Just  as  soon  as  it  was  done,  oh  me !  " 

"  How  did  you  come  to  discover  it,  lady  ?  " 

"  By  my  sister's  scream.  She  screamed  so  loud  it  seemed 
everybody  must  have  heard  it.  Screamed  when  he  stuck 
that  knife  into  her  breast!  " 

"  How  long  after  you  heard  her  scream  was  it  before  you 
came  out  of  the  room  —  your  room?" 

"  I  came  at  once,"  she  said  sulkily,  and  tried  to  cry  louder. 
The  detective  was  thoughtful. 

"  So  you  came  at  once !  And  what  did  you  see  when  you 
came  out  ?  " 

At  this  she  seemed  overcome,  and  it  was  some  moments 
before  he  could  get  her  answer,  and  that  was  after  he  had 
repeated 

"  My  sister  and  father  lying  murdered  in  the  room  there." 

"Is  that  all  you  saw?" 

She  was  sulky  again.  After  a  time  she  muttered.  She 
wrinkled  her  face  but  the  tears  would  not  come.  Presently 
she  said,  and  the  detective  caught  an  effort  on  her  part  to 
say  it. 

"  Yes.     But  I  think  I  heard  a  door  slam  downstairs." 

"  You  think  you  heard  a  door  slam  ?  What  happened 
next?" 

"  My  husband  came." 


514 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  How  long  after  the  door  slammed  was  it  before  your 
husband  came  ?  " 

"  Not  long." 

"  Is  it  not  possible  that  when  you  heard  the  door  slam, 
that  it  was  your  husband  coming  in  ?  " 

"  No.  I  heard  the  door  slam  behind  him,  too."  Again 
he  thought  he  detected  something  singular  in  her  manner,  as 
if  she  were  not  telling  all  she  knew.  .  .  . 

The  detective  went  downstairs  and  talked  with  Mrs.  Mc- 
Carthy a  few  minutes,  and  then  took  his  leave.  He  called 
up  Agnes,  and  made  an  appointment  and  met  her  some  hours 
later. 

"  What  have  you  discovered  ?  "  she  inquired  anxiously, 
her  eyes  searching  his  face. 

"  Well/'  said  he,  slowly,  "  a  few  things,  I  think." 

"  And  Jean  —  Mr.  Baptiste  ?  "  He  looked  up  sharply  and 
searched  her  face. 

"  He  is  innocent." 

"  Thank  God !  "  And  she  clasped  her  hands  and  looked 
down  in  great  relief.  Quickly,  she  looked  up,  however,  and 
cried :  "  But  the  proof.  Will  you  —  can  you  prove  it  ?  " 

He  toyed  idly  with  a  pencil  he  held  in  his  hands,  and  after 
a  time,  drawled :  "  I  think  so.  When  the  proper  time  comes." 

"The  proper  time?  And  —  when  will  that  be?"  Her 
voice  was  controlled,  but  the  anxiety  was  apparent. 

"Well,  we'll  say  at  the  preliminary  hearing  tomorrow 
morning." 

"  And  —  and  —  you  have  no  more  to  report  ?  " 

"  Not  today.  I  shall  attend  the  inquest,  of  course.  And 
where  may  I  see  you  —  say,  tomorrow  ?  " 

"  At  the  hearing." 

"  Very  well,  then.     Good  day." 

"  Good  day." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

VENGEANCE   IS   MINE.      I    WILL  REPAY 

66  TEAN,"  she  cried  joyfully.  "The  detective  says  that 
you  are  innocent ;  and  that  he  feels  he  will  be  able  to 

\J    place  the  crime  where  it  belongs !  " 

"  I'm  glad,"  he  said  solemnly.  She  bestowed  upon  him  a 
kind  smile  as  she  said: 

"  So  I  thought  I  would  just  come  over  and  cheer  you  up. 
There  is  something  mysterious  about  it  all,  and  the  news- 
papers are  devoting  much  space  to  it.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to 
hope  that  it  will  be  all  over  tomorrow,  and  you  will  be  let 
out  of  this  place,  so  you  can  go  back  home  and  cut  your 
wheat." 

"My  wheat?" 

"  Yes,  of  course,  Jean.  You  have  a  fine  crop  of  wheat 
on  all  your  land." 

"I  have?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,"  she  reassured  him.  And  then  she  paused, 
as  something  seemed  to  occur  to  her.  "  Because  of  the  fact 
that  you  have  had  several  failures  you  cannot  realize  that 
you  have  actually  raised  a  crop,  a  big  crop,  better  than  any 
crop  since  —  since."  She  stopped  short,  and  he  under- 
stood and  suppressed  a  sigh.  When  he  looked  up,  she  was 
moving  down  the  hallway,  her  mind  filled  with  something  she 
had  almost  forgotten  during  the  past  two  days. 

He  knew  of  it.  She  had  been  given  quite  a  write-up  in 
the  social  columns  of  a  Chicago  paper  and  many  lovers  of 
her  musical  hit,  were,  unknown  to  her,  curious  with  regard 
to  her  coming  marriage. 


5i6  THE  HOMESTEADER 

The  detective  Agnes  had  retained,  called  on  Baptiste's 
lawyers  and  held  a  lengthy  consultation.  When  he  left 
them,  an  understanding  had  been  reached  with  regard  to 
the  hearing,  and  silence  was  agreed  upon. 

At  the  magistrate's  office  the  following  morning,  the  court 
room  was  crowded.  Scores  were  turned  away,  and  all  the 
family  had  been  subpoenaed. 

Glavis  was  first  called,  and  related  what  he  knew,  which 
has  already  been  related.  Next  came  Mrs.  McCarthy  who 
knew  even  less.  She  was  followed  by  Ethel,  and  the  detec- 
tive and  two  lawyers  questioned  her  closely. 

"  Now,  you  say  you  heard  your  sister  scream,"  said  the 
lawyer  after  the  usual  formalities  had  passed.  "  Will  you 
kindly  state  to  the  court  just  what  you  overheard  and  know 
regarding  this  affair  ?  " 

She  glared  at  him,  and  then  her  eyes  met  those  of  Bap- 
tiste,  and  she  glared  again.  She  told  a  varied  story  of  the 
case,  and  made  it  very  brief. 

"  You  say,  madame,  that  after  you  heard  your  sister 
scream  you  rushed  from  your  room  and  to  where  she  was  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  those  near  noticed  the  sulkiness. 

"  And  when  you  arrived  you  found  her  dead  near  the 
door,  while  your  father  lay  murdered  in  the  bed  ?  " 

"  Yes/' 

"  Do  you  recall,  Mrs.  Glavis,  whether  she  screamed  long, 
or  whether  it  was  brief  ?  " 

She  hesitated,  somewhat  confused.  Presently,  she  stiff- 
ened and  said :  "  It  was  long." 

"  Did  it  last  until  after  you  had  left  your  bed?  " 

"  It  did." 

"  Until  you  had  left  the  room  you  were  in  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  In  fact  she  was  screaming  still  when  you  arrived  at  the 


VENGEANCE  IS  MINE.    I  WILL  REPAY!      517 

door  of  the  room,  no  doubt  ? "  the  lawyer's  tone  was  very 
careless,  just  as  though  he  were  not  in  the  least  serious. 
Her  reply  was  prompt. 

"  Yes." 

"  Now  Mrs.  Glavis,  do  you  recall  having  ever  heard  your 
sister  scream  before  in  a  like  manner  ?  " 

She  started  perceptibly.  Her  eyes  widened,  as  if  she  were 
recalling  an  incident.  Suddenly  she  became  oblivious  of  her 
present  surroundings,  and  conscious  of  a  night  two  years 
before.  .  .  .  When  she  resumed  her  testimony,  she  was  seen 
to  be  weaker. 

"  No,"  she  said  bravely. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  attorneys  for  the  defense  had 
consulted  with  a  chemist,  who  was  in  the  court  room  by  re- 
quest. At  this  juncture  he  was  called  to  the  stand.  He 
was  asked  a  number  of  questions,  and  then  Ethel  was  again 
placed  on  the  stand. 

"  Now,  madame,  the  court  has  decided  to  investigate  this 
matter  thoroughly.  You  are  positive  Jean  Baptiste,  here, 
killed  your  sister,  also  your  father?  You  remember,  of 
course,  in  giving  your  testimony,  that  we  are  going  to  in- 
vestigate the  case  and  prosecute  for  perjury!"  She  had 
been  seen  to  raise  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  with  the  first 
announcement  regarding  the  investigation.  Now  she  ut- 
tered a  loud  cry  as  the  tears  flowed  unchecked.  Suddenly 
she  dropped  her  handkerchief,  and  with  her  arms  stretched 
forward,  she  screamed: 

"No,  no!  Orlean,  Orlean!  Oh,  my  God,  Orlean!" 
And  in  the  next  instant  she  would  have  fallen  in  a  dead 
faint  had  those  near  not  caught  her.  For  this  is  how  it 
happened. 

When  the  family  returned  from  the  court  house,  Orlean 


Si8  THE  HOMESTEADER 

had  retired  at  once,  complaining  of  a  headache.  Since 
she  had  very  often  since  her  father  brought  her  home 
complained  of  such,  no  particular  attention  had  been  paid  it. 
She  stayed  in  bed  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  In  the  mean- 
time her  father  went  over  to  the  west  side,  presumably  to  call 
on  Mrs.  Pruitt.  It  was  late  when  he  returned,  about  eleven 
o'clock,  that  night. 

Orlean  retired  again  about  ten,  and  had  fallen  into  a 
troubled  sleep.  She  felt  the  same  as  she  did  the  night  she 
had  returned  from  Mrs.  Merley's,  and  she  could  not  account 
for  the  strange  nausea  that  lingered  over  her. 

When  N.  J.  McCarthy  returned,  he  went  to  the  kitchen 
for  a  drink  of  water,  after  which,  he  must  return  through 
the  room  in  which  his  daughter,  Orlean,  lay  sleeping. 
As  he  had  done  on  that  occasion  two  years  before,  he 
had  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  to  observe  his  sleeping 
daughter.  How  long  he  stood  thus,  he  never  knew,  but  after 
a  time  he  became  conscious  of  that  strange  sensation  that 
had  come  over  him  on  the  memorable  night  before.  He 
tried  to  throw  off  the  uncanny  feeling,  but  it  seemed  to 
hang  on  like  grim  death.  And  as  he  stood  enmeshed  in  its 
sinister  thraldom,  he  thought  he  again  saw  her  rise  and 
point  an  accusing  finger  at  him.  Out  of  it  all  he  was  sure  he 
heard  again  her  voice  in  all  its  agony  as  it  had  spoken  that 
other  night.  But  tonight  the  accusation  was  more  severe. 

ff  There  you  are  again,  my  betrayer,"  she  said  coldly. 
"  Today  you  completed  your  nefarious  task;  you  completed 
the  evil  that  began  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  oh,  debaser  of 
women!  Where  is  Speed,  and  the  wife  of  his  you  ruined? 
Where?  In  hell  and  its  tortures  did  you  say?  Yes,  and 
where  are  my  brothers?  Oh,  don't  tremble,  for  you  should 
know!  No,  you  made  me  pretend  to  feel  that  you  had  not 
committed  that  sin,  and  other  sins,  also.  But  I  knew  — 


VENGEANCE  IS  MINE.  I  WILL  REPAY! 


519 


yes,  I  knew!  You  never  told  me  I  had  brothers.  You  said 
foolish  things  to  deceive  me  and  the  mother  of  mine.  You 
called  me  by  a  boy's  name,  Jim,  and  pretended,  because  you 
did  not  recognize  your  illegitimate  off-spring,  that  there  were 
none.  And  then  came  Jean.  Oh,  you  had  him  at  a  disad- 
vantage always!  When  he  was  a  little  boy,  you  started 
your  evil,  and  twenty  years  later  you  renewed  it.  Why, 
oh,  you  vain  sinner,  you  know!  He  married  me  —  perhaps 
he  didn't  love  me  then  as  he  might  have  —  as  he  would  have 
had  I  tried  to  be  the  woman  he  wished  me  to  be.  But  you 
took  advantage  of  the  weakness  that  was  in  me  by  the  heri- 
tage of  my  mother,  and  you  made  me  subservient  unto  your 
evil  will! 

c(  Well,  it's  all  over  now,  and  from  this  day  henceforth 
you  will  never  see  peace.  The  evil  and  misery  you  have 
brought  unto  others,  shall  now  be  cast  upon  you.  You  are 
my  father,  and  the  creator  of  my  weakness,  but  you  have 
taken  my  husband  and  soul  mate,  and  made  a  new  genera- 
tion impossible  for  me  to  lead.  And  now  I  say  unto  you,  go 
forth  and  repent.  Begone  from  me.  For  from  this  day 
evermore  though  in  weak  flesh  I  may  pretend  to  love  you, 
know  that  I  must  hate  you!  " 

He  shook  himself,  and  succeeded  in  casting  off  the  depres- 
sion. When  he  looked  again,  Orlean  was  sitting  up  in  bed, 
regarding  him  sleepily.  He  started,  and  wondered  whether 
what  had  passed  was  real,  but  in  the  next  moment  he  was 
relieved. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  in  her  usual,  but  sleepy-like  voice,  "  Is 
that  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  daughter,"  he  replied  quickly,  and  as  if  to  still  the 
excitement  in  his  heart,  he  passed  quickly  around  to  where 
she  reposed,  and  planted  a  kiss  upon  her  lips,  and  turning, 
hurried  upstairs. 


520  THE  HOMESTEADER 

She  sat  upright  for  some  minutes  after  he  had  gone,  and 
became  conscious  of  that  singular  feeling  that  she  had  felt 
all  the  day,  still  lingering  over  her.  As  she  sat  there,  she 
heard  the  little  clock  on  the  table  beside  her  mother  strike 
1 1 130.  She  lay  down  again,  and  a  few  minutes  later  she 
was  asleep. 

The  Reverend  retired  quickly  and  wished  he  could  sleep 
and  forget  what  he  thought  he  had  seen  and  heard.  He 
was  successful,  and  soon  he  was  snoring.  .  He  could  not 
understand  upon  being  awakened  slowly  how  long  he  had 
slept,  but  he  became  conscious  that  the  light  was  burning 
brightly.  He  turned  on  his  back,  and  when  he  could  see 
clearly,  his  eyes  fell  upon  Orlean. 

She  stood  between  him  and  the  door,  and  he  regarded 
her  with  a  puzzled  expression.  Presently  his  eyes  met  hers, 
and  he  started  up.  What  was  the  matter  with  her?  Her 
eyes  were  like  coals  of  burning  fire ;  her  stiff,  bushy  hair,  was 
unbraided  and  stood  away  from  her  head  giving  her  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  savage.  But  it  was  the  expression  of  her  eyes 
that  disturbed  him.  He  was  held  in  a  thraldom  of  fear  as 
she  slowly  advanced  toward  the  bed. 

"  Orlean,"  he  at  last  managed  to  say.     "  What  is  the  — " 

"  I  have  come  at  last  to  right  a  wrong/'  she  began  in  an 
uncanny  voice.  Never  had  he  seen  her  appear  like  that  be- 
fore, nor  heard  her  speak  in  such  a  voice.  She  paused 
when  she  was  beside  the  bed,  and  stood  looking  down  upon 
him  in  that  demented  fashion.  The  cold  perspiration  broke 
out  all  over  him,  and  he  trembled. 

"  Oh,  you  told  me  my  husband  did  not  love  me.  While 
he  worked  to  make  us  comfortable  and  happy  out  there  on 
the  claim  you  sat  beside  my  sick  bed  and  told  me  lies. 
While  he  grieved  over  the  loss  of  our  little  one,  you  con- 
ceived a  vile  plot  to  '  get  even.'  Oh,  you  —  liar!  You  sunk 


VENGEANCE  IS  MINE.  I  WILL  REPAY!   521 

his  soul  into  hell  for  spite.  And  then  today  —  yesterday 
you  reached  your  climax  by  having  me  go  on  the  stand  and 
testify  to  a  greater  lie!  To  save  your  wretched  soul  from 
disgrace,  I  swore  to  the  most  miserable  lie  a  woman  could 
tell!  And  now  that  you  have  made  him  suffer  unjustly, 
and  spoiled  all  life  held  for  me,  the  judgment  of  God  is 
upon  you.  The  God  that  you  have  lied  to  and  made  a 
laughing  idol  of  seeks  restitution!  So  you  sinner  of  all  the 
sins,  vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay!" 

So  saying,  she  reached  quickly  and  grasped  the  knife  he 
had  found  years  before,  a  desperate  looking  instrument  with 
a  six-inch  blade  and  bone  handle.  She  raised  it  high,  and 
for  the  first  time  he  was  fully  awakened.  He  attempted  to 
struggle  upward,  but  with  a  strength  borne  of  excitement, 
she  pushed  him  and  he  felled  backward  upon  the  bed. 

"  Orlean,  my  child,  Orlean!  My  God — oh,  my  heaven, 
what  do  you  — "  he  got  no  further.  Quickly  her  poised  arm 
descended,  and  the  knife  she  held  sank  deeply  into  his  heart. 

"  Oh,  God  —  my  beloved  God  —  ah  —  oh  —  Christ ! 
Christo.  .  .  "  he  struggled  upward  while  she  stood  over 
him  with  that  same  white  expression  upon  her  face.  As 
the  blood  clogged  in  the  cut  the  knife  had  made,  and  all 
the  pulsations  concentrated,  struggled  before  ceasing  their 
functions  for  all  time,  he  turned  his  dying  eyes  toward  her. 
Regarded  her  blindly  for  a  moment,  and  then,  dropped  limply 
back  from  where  he  had  risen,  dead.  In  that  moment  she 
regained  her  sanity. 

She  regarded  him  a  moment  wildly,  and  then  she  closed 
her  eyes  to  try  to  shut  out  the  awful  thing  she  had  done  and 
screamed  long  and  wildly  —  just  as  she  had  done  that  night 
when  she  returned  from  Mrs.  Merley's.  Then,  as  the  echo 
died  away,  the  door  was  pushed  open,  and  before  her  stood 
Ethel.  One  terrible  look  and  the  mad  girl  went  quickly  for- 


522 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


ward,  halted,  swayed,  and  then  with  a  moan,  raised  the  knife 
and  sank  it  into  her  own  breast.  Drawing  it  forth  she  re- 
garded Ethel  wildly,  and  then,  throwing  the  knife  against 
the  wall  of  the  room,  dropped  dead  at  Ethel's  feet,  just  as 
Glavis'  steps  were  heard  in  the  hall  below. 

When  he  heard  his  wife  scream,  and  had  rushed  upstairs, 
saw  the  dead  father-in-law  and  her  sister,  he  cried : 

"Jean  Baptiste  did  this!  I  just  met  him  coming  out  of 
the  house  as  I  entered,"  and  catching  his  wife  he  quickly 
took  her  back  to  the  room,  and  proceeded  to  spread  the 
alarm. 

Even  with  the  grief  she  was  cast  into,  Ethel  had  quickly 
seen  a  chance  to  spite  the  man  she  hated,  and  instead  of 
telling  the  truth,  she  had  chosen  to  keep  silent  and  let  Jean 
Baptiste  be  convicted  if  possible  for  the  crime  he  knew 
nothing  of. 

The  people  were  filing  out  of  the  court  room.  Ethel's 
confession,  born  out  of-  the  excitement  when  the  lawyer  had 
mentioned  investigating  the  crime  deeply,  had  cleared 
everything,  and  Jean  Baptiste  was  free. 

In  the  court  room  during  the  hearing  he  had  observed 
Agnes,  but  when  the  trial  was  over,  she  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  He  looked  around,  but  failed  to  find  any  trace  of  her. 
At  last,  with  a  sigh,  he  went  with  the  lawyers  and  a  few 
days  later  was  home,  to  harvest  the  wheat  she  had  told  him 
was  the  best,  and  so  he  found  it. 

He  was  saved  thereby,  and  went  into  the  harvest  with 
Bill  and  George  again  shocking  as  they  had  done  years  be- 
fore. But  there  was  no  Agnes  to  bring  the  luncheon  now, 
and  Jean  Baptiste  lived  in  the  memory  of  what  had  once 
been. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN   THE  TRUTH    BECAME   KNOWN 

* '  "1"    HAVE  hardly  seen  you  for  two  days,  my  dear,"  he 
complained   when   Agnes   had   returned    from   the 

•"-      hearing. 

"  I  have  been  consumed  with  some  very  delicate  business," 
she  said,  and  notwithstanding  the  excitement  she  was  labor- 
ing under,  allowed  him  to  caress  her.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  regarding  her  strangely.  For  the  first  time  he 
seemed  to  be  aware  of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  rather  strange 
person.  He  was  trying  to  understand  her  eyes  as  every- 
body else  had  done,  even  herself. 

"  Will  Agnes  tell  me  what  has  kept  her  so  busy  and  away, 
I  know  not  where  ?  "  he  asked  tenderly.  "  Or  would  she 
rather  not  —  now." 

"  She'd  rather  not  —  now,"  and  she  tried  to  be  jolly, 
although  she  knew  she  must  have  failed  miserably. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear.  But,  sweet  one,  when  are  you 
going  to  become  my  own  ?  " 

She  started.  In  the  excitement  she  had  so  recently  been 
through,  the  fact  that  she  was  engaged  and  expected  to 
marry  soon,  had  gone  entirely  out  of  her  mind. 

"Why,  really  —  when?"  She  paused  in  her  confusion, 
and  he  said  quickly : 

"  Let's  just  get  married  —  today !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  please  don't  ask  me  to  so  soon." 

He  frowned.  Then  he  was  pleasant  again.  "  Then, 
when,  Agnes?" 

523 


524 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


She  was  still  confused,  and  in  that  moment  thought  of  the 
legacy.  She  was  more  confused.  He  caught  her  hand  then, 
and  touched  her  cheek  with  his  lips. 

After  an  hour  she  had  told  him  of  the  legacy. 

"  That  place  is  less  than  a  hundred  miles  from  Chicago 
and  we  can  just  run  down  there  today  and  back  this  even- 
ing !  "  he  exclaimed,  shifting  in  anxious  excitement.  "  We 
can  go  there  and  back  today,  and  be  married  tomorrow." 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I'll  suggest  that  we  have  the 
legacy  brought  here,  and  attended  to  according  to  the  will 
and  all  that  has  for  a  lifetime  to  me  been  a  mystery,  be 
cleared  here  in  your  and  your  aunt's  presence.  And  the  day 
after  —  I  will  marry  you."  She  dropped  her  eyes  then  in 
peculiar  solemnity.  He  didn't  understand  her  but  the  thrill 
of  what  was  to-  come  overwhelmed  him,  and  in  the  next 
instant  he  held  her  in  his  arms. 

They  explained  their  plans  to  his  aunt,  who,  because  she 
disliked  notoriety,  readily  agreed,  and  by  special  messenger 
the  papers  were  brought  to  the  city  the  following  day  and 
opened  according  to  her  mother's  will. 

The  night  before,  as  they  were  returning  from  the  theatre, 
he  said  to  her: 

"  Agnes,  do  you  know  —  and  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me 
if  it  seems  singular,  but  there  is  something  about  you  I  can 
never  —  somehow  feel  I  never  will,  understand."  He 
paused  then  and  she  could  see  he  was  embarrassed. 

"  It  is  in  your  eyes.  I  see  them  in  this  hour  and  they 
are  blue,  but  in  the  next  they  are  brown.  Has  any  one 
ever  observed  the  fact  before  ?  "  he  ended. 

She  nodded,  affirmatively. 

"Why  is  it,  dear?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  And  you  —  you  have  noticed  it  yourself  ?  " 


WHEN  THE  TRUTH  BECAME  KNOWN      525 

"  Yes." 

"  And  —  can't  you  understand  it,  either  ?  " 

She  acknowledged  the  fact  with  her  eyes. 

"  It  is  strange.  I'll  be  glad  when  we  understand  this 
legacy." 

"  I  will,  too." 

"  It  makes  me  feel  that  something's  going  to  happen. 
Perhaps  we  —  you  are  going  to  prove  to  be  an  heiress." 

She  laughed  cheerfully. 

"  And  then  you  will  not  want  to  marry  me,  maybe." 

She  laughed  again. 

"  But  nothing  would  keep  me  from  loving  you  always, 
Agnes,"  he  said  with  deep  feeling. 

"  Even  if  the  papers  would  show  me  to  be  descended  from 
some  horrible  pirate  or  worse." 

"  Nothing  in  the  world  could  make  a  difference.  Indeed, 
should  the  papers  connect  you  with  something  out  of  the 
ordinary,  I  think  I  would  like  you  better  —  that  is,  it  would 
add  even  more  mystery  to  your  already  mysterious  self." 

"Wonderful!" 

He  kissed  her  impulsively,  and  in  the  next  hour  she  went 
off  to  bed. 

"  What  is  this  ? "  said  her  fiance's  aunt,  as  the  lawyer 
lifted  a  small  package  from  the  box  of  documents,  and  as 
he  did  so,  an  old  photograph  slipped  and  fell  to  the  floor. 
It  was  yellow  with  age ;  but  the  reflection  of  the  person  was 
clearly  discernible.  All  three  looked  at  it  in  wonderment. 
Then  her  fiance  and  his  aunt  regarded  her  with  apprehen- 
sion. The  package  was  untied,  and  all  the  papers  gone 
through  and  much  history  was  therein  contained.  But  one 
fact  stood  above  all  others. 

"  Is  this  a  fact  ?  "  said  the  aunt  coldly.     Never  had  she 


526  THE  HOMESTEADER 

appeared  more  dignified.  Her  nephew  stood  away,  regard- 
ing Agnes  out  of  eyes  in  which  she  could  see  a  growing 
fear. 

"  Well,  I  hope  everything  is  clear,"  said  the  lawyer  as- 
tutely. "  It  seems  that  you  have  come  into  something, 
madam,  and  I  trust  it  will  prove  of  value."  She  mumbled 
something  in  reply,  and  stood  gazing  at  the  two  pictures  she 
now  held.  All  that  had  been  so  strange  to  her  in  life  was 
at  last  clear.  She  understood  the  changing  color  of  her 
eyes,  and  her  father's  statements  that  he  had  never  quite 
explained.  At  last  she  knew  who  she  was. 

She  turned  to  find  herself  alone.  She  opened  her  lips 
and  started  to  call  the  others,  and  then  hesitated.  Why  had 
they  left  her?  She  looked  at  the  photographs  she  held  — 
and  understood. 

She  gathered  the  documents  and  placed  them  in  the  box, 
went  upstairs,  slowly  packed  her  belongings,  and  called  a 
cab. 

Jean  Baptiste  came  into  the  granary  on  the  old  claim,  and 
looked  out  over  the  place.  And  as  he  did  so,  he  regarded 
the  spot  where  the  sod  house  had  once  stood  and  wherein 
he  had  spent  many  happy  days.  As  he  thought  of  it,  the 
past  rose  before  him,  and  he  lived  through  the  sweetness 
again  that  a  harvest  had  once  brought  him.  That  was 
years  before,  and  in  that  moment  he  wished  he  could  bring 
it  back  again.  The  Custom  of  the  Country  and  its  law  had 
forbid,  and  he  had  paid  the  penalty.  He  wondered  whether 
he  would  do  the  same  again  and  sacrifice  all  that  had  been 
dear  and  risk  the  misery  that  had  followed. 

He  shifted,  and  in  so  doing  his  back  was  toward  the  road. 
"  Withal,  it  would  have  been  awkward  to  have  married  a 
white  woman,"  he  muttered,  and  reached  for  the  cold  lunch 


WHEN  THE  TRUTH  BECAME  KNOWN      527 

he  had  brought  for  his  meal.  Bill  and  George  were  eating 
in  the  field  where  they  worked. 

"  Batching  is  hell,"  he  muttered  aloud,  and  picked  up  a 
sandwich. 

"  How  very  bad  you  are,  Jean,"  he  heard,  and  almost 
strained  his  neck  in  turning  so  quickly. 

"Agnes!" 

"Well,  why  not?" 

"  But  —  but  —  oh,  tell  me,"  and  then  he  became  silent 
and  looked  away,  raising  the  sandwich  to  his  mouth  me- 
chanically. 

"  Don't  eat  the  cold  lunch,  Jean.  I  have  brought  some 
that  is  warm,"  so  saying  she  uncovered  the  basket  she 
carried,  and  he  regarded  it  eagerly. 

"  But,  Agnes,  how  came  you  here?  I  —  I  —  thought  you 
—  were  getting  married.  Are  you  here  on  —  on  your  wed- 
ding trip?" 

"  Oh,  Lord,  no !     No,  Jean,  I  am  not  going  to  marry." 

"Not  going  to  marry!" 

She  shook  her  head  and  affected  to  be  sad,  but  a  little 
smile  played  around  her  lips  that  he  saw  but  didn't  under- 
stand. 

"But  — Agnes,  why?" 

"  Because  the  one  to  whom  I  was  engaged  —  well,  he 
wouldn't  marry  me,"  and  she  laughed. 

"  I  wish  you  would  make  it  all  clear.  At  least  tell  me 
what  it  means  —  that  it  is  so." 

"  It  is  so !  "  she  said  stoutly,  and  he  believed  her  when 
he  saw  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  understand  by  and  by." 

"  You  will  understand,  soon,  Jean,"  she  said  kindly. 
"  Papa  will  explain  —  everything."  She  turned  her  eyes 
away  then,  and  in  the  moment  he  reached  and  grasped  her 


528  THE  HOMESTEADER 

hand.  In  the  next  instant  he  had  dropped  it,  as  a  far  away 
expression  came  into  his  eyes  as  if  he  had  suddenly  recalled 
something  he  would  forget. 

"  Jean,"  she  cried,  and  came  close  to  him.  She  looked 
up  into  his  eyes  and  saw  what  was  troubling  him.  She  got 
beside  him  closely  then.  She  placed  an  arm  around  him, 
and  with  her  free  hand  she  lifted  his  left  hand  over  her 
shoulder  and  held  his  fingers  as  she  looked  away  across  the 
harvest  fields,  and  sighed  lightly  as  she  said : 

"  Something  happened  and  I  was  strangely  glad  and  came 
here  because  —  because  I  —  just  had  to  see  you,  Jean." 

"  Please,  Jean.  You  —  will  —  forget  that  now."  She 
paused  and  was  not  aware  that  her  arm  was  around  him. 
and  that  his  hand  rested  over  her  shoulder.  Her  eyes  were 
as  they  had  been  that  day  near  this  selfsame  spot  years 
before,  kind  and  endearing.  She  did  not  resist  as  she  saw 
his  manly  love  and  felt  his  body  quiver. 

And  almost  were  his  lips  touching  hers  when  suddenly, 
she  saw  him  hesitate,  and  despite  the  darkness  of  his  face, 
she  could  see  that  in  that  moment  the  blood  seemed  to 
leave  it.  He  dropped  the  arms  that  had  embraced  her, 
and  almost  groaned  aloud.  As  she  stood  regarding  him  he 
turned  and  walked  away  with  his  eyes  upon  the  earth. 

She  turned  then  and  retraced  her  steps,  but  as  she  went 
along  the  roadway  she  was  thinking  of  him  and  herself  and 
who  she  was  at  last.  She  sighed,  strangely  contented,  and 
was  positive  —  knew  that  in  due  time  he  too  must  come  to 
understand. 


CHAPTER  XX 

AS  IT   WAS   IN   THE  BEGINNING 

IT  WAS  in  the  autumn  time,  after  the  wheat  and  the  oats, 
the  rye,  the  barley  and  the  flaxseed  had  all  been  gath- 
ered, and  threshed,  and  also  after  the  corn  had  been 
husked.  Wheat,  he  had  raised,  thousands  and  thousands  of 
bushels.  And  because  there  was  war  over  all  the  old  world, 
and  the  great  powers  of  the  land  were  in  the  grim  struggle 
of  trying  to  crush  each  other  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  the 
power  under  which  he  lived  was  struggling  with  the  task  of 
feeding  a  portion  of  those  engaged  in  the  struggle.  And 
because  Black  Rust  had  impaired  the  spring  wheat  yield 
those  thousands  of  bushels  he  raised,  he  had  sold  at  a  price 
so  high  that  he  had  sufficient  to  redeem  at  last  the  land  he 
was  about  to  lose  and  money  left  for  future  development 
into  the  bargain. 

He  sat  alone  at  this  moment  in  a  stateroom  aboard  a 
great  continental  limited,  just  out  of  Omaha  and  speeding 
westward  to  the  Pacific  coast.  As  was  his  customary  wont, 
his  thoughts  were  prolific.  But  for  once  —  and  maybe  for 
the  first  time,  on  the  whole,  he  was  satisfied, —  he  was  con- 
tented—  and  last,  but  not  least,  he  was  happy. 

Being  happy,  however,  is  not  quite  possible  alone.  No, 
and  Jean  Baptiste  was  not  alone.  And  here  is  what  had 
happened. 

Jack  Stewart  had  told  him  the  story.  And  in  the  story 
told,  one  great  mystery  was  solved.  He  now  understood 
why  Agnes'  eyes  had  been  so  baffling.  Simple,  too,  in  a 

529 


530 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


measure.  To  begin  with,  her  mother  had  possessed  rare 
brown  eyes,  he  had  seen  by  her  picture,  because  Agnes' 
mother  had  not  been  a  white  woman  at  all,  but  in  truth 
was  of  Ethiopian  extraction.  This  was  a  part  of  the  story 
Jack  Stewart  had  told  him.  He  had  met  and  married  her 
mother  on  a  trip  from  the  West  Indies  where  she  had  lived, 
to  Glasgow;  the  marriage  being  decided  upon  quickly, 
for  in  truth  the  woman  was  fleeing.  In  London  some  years 
before,  she  had  been  the  pupil  of  a  learned  minister,  who 
had  become  an  infidel,  and  also  unscrupulous.  But  we 
know  the  story  —  at  least  a  part  of  it  —  of  Augustus  M. 
Barr,  alias,  Isaac  M.  Barr;  alias  —  but  it  does  not  matter. 
We  are  concerned  with  Agnes'  mother.  Her  mother  had 
inherited  a  small  fortune  from  Agnes'  grandma  and  this 
Barr  had  sought  to  secure.  To  do  so,  he  had  followed 
Jack  Stewart  and  his  wife,  Agnes'  mother  to  Jerusalem. 
There  he  had  met  Isaac  Syfe,  the  Jew,  whom  he  later 
brought  to  America.  He  did  not  find  the  woman  he  had 
followed  there,  but  on  his  return  to  England  he  did  find 
Peter  Kaden  who  was  married  to  Christine.  Kaden  was 
involved  in  a  murder  case,  was  accused,  and  had  been  sen- 
tenced to  Australia  for  the  rest  of  his  natural  life.  It  was 
Barr  who  saved  him,  and  the  fee  Kaden  paid  was  Christine. 
Barr  accommodated  him  by  bringing  him  to  America  where 
he  placed  all  three,  including  himself,  on  homesteads.  Syfe 
settled  with  him  in  cash  by  taking  a  large  loan  on  his  home- 
stead and  giving  Barr  the  proceeds. 

But  Kaden  was  in  the  way.  He  had  never  been  comfort- 
able in  the  new  country  with  Christine  the  wife  of  another 
and  living  so  near,  so  Barr  sent  Christine  away  and  drove 
Kaden  to  suicide.  Later  at  Lincoln,  Nebraska  she  left  him 
and  went  out  of  his  life  forever.  Barr  had  secured  Kaden's 
homestead,  and  all  this  Jack  Stewart  knew,  but  had  never 


AS  IT  WAS  IN  THE  BEGINNING         531 

disclosed.  Barr  lost  track  of  Agnes'  mother,  but  knew  that 
somewhere  in  the  world  there  was  a  treasure  but  not  as  great 
as  he  had  thought  it  was  —  about  ten  thousand  dollars  in  all. 

While  Jean  Baptiste  was  absorbed  in  these  thoughts,  the 
door  was  opened  quietly,  and  closed.  Some  one  had  entered 
the  stateroom  and  his  ears  caught  the  light  rustle  of  a  skirt. 
His  eyes  were  upon  the  landscape,  but  suddenly  they  saw 
nothing,  for  his  eyes  had  been  covered  by  a  pair  of  soft 
hands. 

"  I  knew  it  was  you,"  he  said,  happily,  as  he  drew  her 
into  the  seat  beside  him,  between  himself  and  the  window. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  my  Jean,"  she  said  then. 

"Of  what  I  have  been  thinking  ever  since  the  day  when 
we  understood  that  you  and  I  after  all  are  of  the  same 
blood." 

"  Oh,  you  have,"  she  chimed,  and  drawir^  his  face  close 
with  her  hands,  she  kissed  him  ardently. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful,  Agnes?     Just  grand !  " 

"  Oh,  Jean,  you  make  me  so  happy." 

"You  are  honestly  happy,  dear?"  he  inquired  for  the 
hundredth  time. 

"  I  couldn't  be  happier,"  and  she  reposed  in  his  arms. 

"  Have  truly  forgotten  that  you  are  an  Ethiopian,  and 
must  share  what  is  Ethiopia's  ?  " 

"  Will  share  what  is  yours,  my  Jean." 

"  Always  so  beautifully  have  you  said  that." 

"Havel,  now,  really?" 

"  Do  you  recall  the  day  when  I  forgot,  dear,  The  Custom 
of  the  Country  —  and  its  law!" 

"How  could  I  forget  it?" 

"And  what  followed?" 

"  I  cannot  forget  that,  either.  But  Jean,  do  you  want 
me  to?" 


53* 


THE  HOMESTEADER 


"  Agnes,  we  must  both  forget  what  followed.  Still,  when 
we  think  how  kind  fate  has  been  to  us,  after  all,  we  must 
feel  grateful." 

"  Oh,  how  much  I  do.  But,  Jean  —  it  was  such  a  sac- 
rifice. .  .  ." 

He  was  thoughtful  for  a  time,  and  from  the  expression  on 
his  face,  the  present  was  far  away. 

"  Please,  dear,"  she  said,  taking  his  hand  and  fondling  it. 
"  When  you  happen  to  think  of  it ;  will  you  try  never  to 
allow  yourself  to  resume  that  expression  —  that  expression 
again  ?  " 

He  looked  down  at  her. 

"  Expression  ?  " 

"  Like  you  wore  just  then." 

"  Oh." 

"  You  see,  it  seems  to  bring  back  events  in  your  life  that 
we  want  to  forget." 

"  You  mean,  I  — " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  slowly,  "  you  —  we  understand  each  other 
and  everything  that  has  concerned  each  other,  don't  we, 
Jean?"  ' 

"Of  course  we  do,  Agnes.  We  have  always  —  but  there, 
now !  "  and  he  smothered  the  rest  of  it  in  a  fond  caress. 

"  Wasn't  it  strange,"  she  mused  after  a  time.  "  I  could 
never  understand  it.  I  saw  it  in  my  eyes  before  we  left 
Indiana.  And  then  I  had  that  strange  dream  and  saw  you." 
She  paused  and  played  with  his  fingers.  "  But  I  never  felt 
the  same  afterwards.  Somehow  I  felt  that  something 
strange,  something  unusual  was  going  to  happen  in  my  life, 
and  now  when  I  look  back  upon  it  and  am  so  happy,"  where- 
upon she  grasped  tightly  the  fingers  she  held  — "  I  feel  it 
just  had  to  be." 


AS  IT  WAS  IN  THE  BEGINNING         533 

"  Do  you  reckon  your  father  understood  the  love  that 
was  between  us  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  did.  And  he  started  more  than  once  about 
that  time  to  tell  me  something.  He  went  so  far  once  as  to 
say  that  if  you  liked  me,  and  I  cut  him  off.  Afterwards 
I  could  see  that  it  worried  you  and  my  heart  went  out  to 
you  more  than  ever.  And  then  you  reached  your  decision. 
I  saw  it,  and  it  seems  that  I  liked  you  more  for  the  man 
you  were." 

"  Did  you  love  the  man  you  were  engaged  to  ?  " 

"  Jean ! " 

He  laughed  sheepishly,  and  patted  her  shoulder.  He 
was  sorry,  that  he  had  asked  her  such  a  question,  and  he 
resolved  thereupon  never  to  do  so  again.  Something  dark 
passed  before  him  —  terrible  years  when  he  had  suffered 
much.  She  was  speaking  again. 

"  You  know  I  never  loved  any  one  in  the  world  but  you." 


THE   END 


1  6 


?5 


'Hi, 
/in 


